


Never Far Away

by unforgetabELLE



Series: Not Alone [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: #Not Alone Sequel!, Adrinette, DJWifi, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Ladybug - Freeform, M/M, Marichat, Miraculous Ladybug - Freeform, You're gonna love him, chat noir - Freeform, continuing Chloe's redemption!, ladrien, meet Mathys, miraculous - Freeform, or as i like to call them Ninya, we've got it all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 64,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unforgetabELLE/pseuds/unforgetabELLE
Summary: “I’m just happy, which seems ridiculous because there’s a looming battle that we’re not  prepared for...but I am. We haven’t been together like this in a long time. It feels...right. I miss this.”“It’s not ridiculous,” he moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m happy, too.” She reached across to lace her fingers with his. “We’re always together in the way it counts. Besides, true friends...family,” he amended, “is never far away.”~*~What happened after Germain and before the happily ever after? Never Far Away picks up five years after the events of Not Alone, and it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing for our miraculous team. Will they be able to defeat the force that threatens to tear them apart? Will they actually get to that happily ever after?(You should probably read Not Alone first, but I’m not the boss of you. Live your life.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mari_Poppins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Poppins/gifts).



> Welcome back! I'm currently in the midst of editing, but I couldn't wait to start giving you the chapters :)  
> (Also, don't be alarmed by the first section. Yes, this is a ML story. Keep reading, it'll be okay.)

“Jo!” She heard Pete’s voice call her for the tenth time, but she barely listened. She was focused on exploring a newly discovered offshoot of the catacombs they had been excavating for 4 months. They had expected from the apparent age and location of this burial site to find Etruscan artifacts, but most of the tools and art were more reminiscent of Hellenistic times. Intrigued, and insatiable to know more, Josephine disregarded the warning of an ancient curse at the entrance of what should befall any who dare disturb the eternal rest of the deceased and waded through the dirt and debris down the passage.

Pete was much more superstitious than she, so she’d left him behind. There was a time when she’d been more in tune with the spiritual world...but that time was tinged with memories she’d rather leave forgotten and she’d moved on. She was a scientist now, and curses and magic were historical relics of a less educated time. Ever since she passed through the northern Mediterranean coast when she was young, she’d been fascinated with mythologies of this region. But she reminded herself that they was just myths, stories to distract scared and lonely little girls like her. There wasn’t actually truth in them.

Still, every time she accidentally stepped on a bone or kicked a dislodged skull, she cringed, waiting for Zeus or Jupiter or whoever to strike her dead with lightning. She prided herself on being logical, but being surrounded by superstitions and religions of an ancient era day in and day out had her slipping more and more back into the beliefs of the village where she had grown up. She couldn’t help but make the ancient symbol to ward off evil. It couldn’t hurt. There was definitely something ominous about this passage, but her curiosity got the better of her and she continued on.

“Josephine!” Pete called again, and she paused. He suddenly sounded much farther away than he had a moment ago. _How far in was she?_ She began to turn around when she noticed a small inset in the wall. She tentatively moved some plant matter and stray bones out of the way to reveal a chest. Her hand touched the decaying wood top of its own accord--despite all her artifact preservation training screaming at her to stop--and she lifted the rusted hatch. It had been locked at one point, but it snapped open easily enough, creaking eerily and echoing through the long and narrow tunnel. Inside was a polished stone. There were no breaks or lines of where the two pieces might have been spliced together, but somehow the ovular pebble was split almost perfectly down the middle, one site a gleaming ebony and the other a sparkling white. _Maybe marble?_ She thought, immediately starting to analyze the artifact,  but two such varied colors, separated as they were was...unnatural. Nevertheless, her hand reached forward, as the mysterious object called to her.

Her fingers made contact with its cool surface, and it seemed to heat immediately under her skin. She took it completely into her hands and a flash of  light ricocheted menacingly off the skull-studded walls surrounding her, somehow leaving the tunnel impossibly darker than before. A rush of power infused her body  like a shot of liqueur, burning its way through her veins. Without consciously choosing to, she slipped the stone into her pocket, closed the chest and recovered the alcove.

“JO.” Pete’s voice sounded aggravated now,

“Coming!” she finally responded and turned to go. He hand reached down to fiddle with the stone, and the feeling surged through her again with...pleasure. It was as if suddenly she had been reunited with a long lost friend and she was now only realizing how alone she’d been without it. Her friend smiled, and she followed in suit.

Reemerging from the entrance, Pete looked relieved but angry.

“Jo,” he wiped a hand over his face in exhaustion. “You  just took ten years off my life. You are slowly killing me. See this white hair?” He pointed to his his completely silver mop. “All. You.”

“Sorry, professor,” she smirked at him. They were technically colleagues now, but he had been her dissertation advisor. Old habits die hard.

“Did you at least find anything?” He looked at her expectantly. He knew enough by now that her hunches, dangerous as they might be, usually did at least bear fruit in the end.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but found that no words came out. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t. Actually, the longer that she deliberated, she found her feelings changing. She _didn’t_ want to tell him. That was odd. She had never been an indecisive person until now. Still, a niggling voice in the back of her head was growing stronger. _Nothing. You found nothing._

“Nothing. I didn’t find anything,” she gasped out at last, repeating the voice. Pete looked at her strangely, but accepted her answer.

“Let’s get out of here then. This place it giving me the creeps. Something...just doesn’t feel right here.” He shivered as if to dislodge some bad juju.

Josephine pulled the pebble from her pocket when he turned away. She was going to throw it away. _Something was off. Something wasn’t...No, it was fine_ , she changed her mind as a burst of power and knowledge coursed through her. She placed the rock back in her pocket. Smiling, she followed Pete up the ladder and back into the Tuscan sunlight.

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. He did every time. Sitting on a ledge, overlooking the Eiffel Tower, her brunette hair shone almost blue in the moonlight and the taut muscles of her back bunched and coiled as she rocked back and forth absentmindedly, lost in the lights of Paris.

There had been some disturbances in Paris recently and Fu had said he felt as if a storm was approaching. Chat had no idea what that meant, but he and Ladybug had doubled their patrols and usually split up to cover more ground. They ran a parallel route, so they were never too far from the other should something happen, but they hadn’t patrolled side by side in months.

Like a cat burglar in the night, he snuck over and plopped down next to her. She wasn’t startled in the slightest and instead looked over at him, eyebrow raised.

“Hey beautiful, it seem’s like _fur_ -ever since I’ve seen your _meow_ -velous smile.” He waggled his eyes seductively at her, but she simply cocked her head at him.

“Do I know you?”

“Ah, _Purr_ -incess,” he clasped a hand to his heart in pain. “ _Paw-_ lease. You wound me.”

She let a smile slip.

“How _claw_ -ful of me.” She looked over and he smiled back at her.

“I love it when you talk punny to me.” He leaned towards her and she grabbed his bell, pulling him until their lips were a hair’s breadth away. “ _Paw-_ sitively sexy, M’lady.” he leaned in to close the gap, but she held him steady.

“You know what would be even sexier,” she whispered, her voice low and throaty, and he could practically feel her lips move they were so close.

He hummed, not able to quite form words.

“If you did the dishes,” she leaned in and playfully nipped at his nose. Then she was up and racing along the rooftop in an instant. “Last one home is on clean-up duty for a week!”She turned around and ran backward, teasing him. He was up and moving faster than light, and she squeaked in surprise as he started to gain on her before she turned and raced in earnest.

He chased her home, coming in second, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind. He’d gotten to chase her laughter through the streets of Paris and he would happily follow this woman for the rest of his life.

Home. He chased her home. To _their_ home.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually where this whole sequel started. it was supposed to be just a one-shot to follow up Not Alone, but it got..a little out of control ;)

After months of convincing their families--surprisingly it had been his mom that made most of the fuss--he and Marinette were finally looking for apartments. 

For the first few years of university, they’d lived with roommates--Marinette with Alya, of course, and Adrien had found some guys from the physics department to room with. His father had been appalled at having so many boys sharing a two room apartment, and Adrien realized again that as hard as his father had worked to build his business and make a name for himself, he grew up in as much privilege as he had given Adrien. His mother, on the other hand, had just smirked, and told Adrien that she was proud of him. It would be a good experience.

They helped him move in, and Adrien was happy again that he’d chosen a university only a metro ride away. He was still reeling from having his mother back, and very aware of how quickly everything could change. While he was sometimes envious of Nino’s nomadic life spinning at a different club every night, he was completely content with his homebody lifestyle. It was just an added bonus that Marinette was going to the same university for her degree in Fine Arts and International Business Administration. 

They spent the first two years throwing themselves into their studies. Exhausted at the end of every night, they still met at least three times a week to patrol and were on demand if Paris needed them. While Mayor Bourgeois had since moved on and let a new administration take over, he still acted as a mediator between the masked heros of Paris and the government. Much subtler than a bat signal, he had given each of them a pager that could be used by the current mayor if they needed Ladybug and Chat Noir.  Adrien had to laugh remembering when they had gotten it the last year of lycée, how Chloé had looked at it disdainfully and completely rejected the idea.

_ “It doesn’t go with my outfit; besides what year is it? 1985?” _

Chloé had never really had a public presence anyway. She surprisingly preferred to help only when necessary and pick up extra patrols instead. Paris never really got over the mystery of who the yellow-and-black-clad vigilante was--and some were a little too aggressive in their desperation to know--but Chloé preferred the anonymity. 

Between class, his advanced tract, Marinette’s double major, and their miraculous duties, he and Marinette usually ended up passing out in whoever’s bed was closest most of the time anyway. Adrien always got congratulatory pats on the backs from his roommates when Marinette emerged with him in the morning, which he ignored and tried not to blush at, and Alya knew what was really going on, more times than not she was just as exhausted as they were. 

So, with Alya going abroad for junior year, Adrien had just popped the question. Not  _ that _ question...at least not  _ yet _ … but he decided to ask Marinette to move in with him.

It was finals season, and he was hanging at Alya and Marinette’s apartment during a mutual few days break they had. He was nervous and he’d decided to phrase it as a matter of practicality, citing how much more convenient it would be for both of them. He cringed remembering the path to now... 

 

_ “We wouldn’t have to hide from any roommates, and you wouldn’t have to worry about finding a random person and potentially getting a psycho as a roommate while Alya’s gone.” She just stared at him. “I mean, you’ve had it easy the last two years. No one nosing around your stuff, having to keep up certain lies, explain your abrupt absences…” She had raised her eyebrow now. _

_ “So, you’re asking me to move in with you, my boyfriend of five years, for...practical reasons?” She looked at him dubiously, her eyes narrowed in what Adrien realized was annoyance.  _

_“Yeah, I mean,” he reached up and rubbed the back of his head nervously. “That’s not the_ **only** _reason? I mean, I love you?” He tried and then added when she still looked annoyed. “Your hair looks really pretty today.”_

_ The hint of a smile played at the edge of her lips, but he was surprised to see an unexpected hint of sadness in her eyes. _

_ “Tell you what, Kitty. You figure that out, and then we’ll talk. Okay?” She patted his knee and got up to walk towards her kitchen. He sat there, stunned.  _ **How had that gone so opposite to what he’d imagined?** _ They had talked about moving in together before. Sure, it was sooner than they’d planned, but he thought it had basically already been agreed upon. _

_ Alya walked out then, an amused look on her face. She clearly had overheard the conversation from her room. He turned and looked at her, confusion evident in his furrowed brows and slack jaw. _

_ “Aww, sunshine,” she sat next to him and patted his back. She was clearly suppressing her laughter, which was thoughtful of her, but he still found it annoying. What sort of magical girl power did she possess that allowed to to understand what the hell had just happened? He was clueless.  _

_ “Marshmallow,” she used the pet name for him that she’d coined about two years earlier, claiming it represented his mushiness and how he was too pure for this world.  _ **Stupid might be a better word for it** ,  _ he thought, still bewildered.  _

_ “I was just trying to be practical about it,” he muttered. _

_“Yes, and it was very practical, but since when does Adrien Agreste, master of grand gestures and cheesy romance, choose to ask his beloved girlfriend of_ **five years** _to move in with him, a huge life event for the two of you and milestone for your relationship, through a pragmatic statement of how_ **convenient** _it would be?” She looked at him kindly, but also with a hint of_ **How stupid can you be?**

 _“Ah, shit,” he dropped his head into his hands. She was right. Of course, Alya was usually right. He’d just been so worried about getting their parents to agree--they were after all still footing the bill--that he’d created a completely rational argument about why they should live together. So wrapped up in that, and secure with the knowledge that this was something he and Marinette had discussed at length and both wanted, he completely ignored the obvious. He_ **loved** _doing little romantic things for Marinette. He knew she didn’t really care about gifts and material displays of affection, so he used big gestures and planned adventures for them. He did things like set up cheesy moonlit picnics on rooftops and met her randomly to walk with her between classes. After she had drunkenly admitted to him one night that she secretly loved his Chat puns, he even amped up his pun game. He loved celebrating seemingly meaningless anniversaries: their 23rd month anniversary, the year anniversary of the first time they went ice skating together, 3 years since they went to prom together, 4 years since she kissed him for the first time... All his days of the year were attached to_ **them**. 

_ He got up and walked after her into the kitchen. She was making her comfort food, hot chocolate, and looked over her shoulder at him. She smiled sadly at him. Moving the pan off the stove, she poured three glasses. Setting Alya’s on the pass-through from the kitchen to the living room, Alya quickly grabbed it and disappeared back into her room, leaving him to somehow fix this. Marinette turned to start putting things away, but he put his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Resting his chin on her shoulder, she sighed, relaxing into him and rubbing his forearm. _

_ “Bugaboo, I’m sorry.” _

_ “No, no. You’re right. It does make sense. It’s very...practical.” she said the last word a bit forlornly. _

_ “But…” he egged on. _

_ “But,” she finally continued, “I guess I just… didn’t expect you to ask like that. Look, I know we’ve been together for a while and I don’t expect grand gestures each day. You don’t have to continually woo me--” _

_ “Absolutely, I do,” he cut her off and spun her around so they were facing. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want to woo you every day of your life. You should be  _ woo- _ zy with all the woo. You deserve nothing less.” She smiled at him warmly. _

_ “I know it seems silly, and I’m sorry I reacted like that, but...It’s just  _ **kinda** _ a big deal to me, and you usually...well, you’re usually over the top with big life events, so it just...when you didn’t act like it was a big deal...it seemed like…like maybe you didn't think it was a big deal and that maybe you thought...I would just be a roommate to you.” She had looked down, focusing on the center of his chest, but suddenly looked up, her eyes fierce. “And I will not be your roommate, Adrien Agreste. If you’re bored of us, and you just don’t know how to tell me, because it’s complicated and I guess it might seem like you’re stuck with me no matter what because of the miraculous--” _

_“NO! God, no. Never.” He looked down at this girl he’d watched become a woman, so assured of herself and what she wanted in life. He still got glimpses of the insecure girl every once in awhile, like right now, but he had determined a long time ago to never be a cause of that uncertainty. Clearly, he’d failed today. “I_ **absolutely** _do not think of you as just a roommate. Please, never doubt how much I love you. Please?” She just nodded, and leaned up to kiss him._

_ He cradled her head like something precious, because it was, before he pulled back. _

_ “I demand a do-over!” He announced formally. _

_ “Oh?” The left side of her mouth tilted up in a smile. “Do you now?” _

_ “Just you wait, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. You will be thoroughly swept off your feet. Feet.” He pointed to her. “Swept.” He made an over the top sweeping motion with his arm, and then turned to pour his hot chocolate into a travel mug. _

_ “Where are you going?” _

_ He turned back and looked at her seriously. _

_ “I have plans to make.” He stated in a dramatic voice and then turned and walked out the door. Her giggles followed him down the hall, and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread over his face, his day instantly better at the sound of her laugh.  _

 

_ On the day of her last final of the year, Marinette was exhausted. She had grand plans to walk in her half-dead state directly to her bed where she would dramatically flop. Beds were  _ **meant** _ for flopping. Beds were good. Flopping was good. _

_She was rubbing her palm as she stared ahead, not really looking where she was going. Art finals were ridiculous. She had to take some beginner drawing classes, just as prerequisites that she’d been putting off, for the fashion courses she was really interested in, and while the main portion of the final was a portfolio they’d prepared the entire year, the in-class final was ‘drawing for accuracy’. Many of the art students grumbled about how stifling it was to create_ _under pressure, but Marinette didn’t mind. She’d made plenty of artistic renderings of her designs, but she always made one with precise measurements and details too. She could be precise and draw exactly what something was, no personal impression, when she needed to. As for doing it under pressure, Marinette rolled her eyes. Some of her classmates were geniuses, and crazy talented in a way she couldn’t imagine, but the amount of times she’d had to_ **create** _under pressure was laughable. Piece of cake. She was procrastinator extraordinaire. She thrived under pressure._

_ Now fully emerged from the serene focus she’d descended into during the final, she realized her hand was killing her. She’d been gripping that charcoal a little too tightly, apparently. She turned around the corner and down an alley that was a shortcut to her apartment when suddenly a black shadow fell over her and someone gripped her around the waist. Before she could react, her feet left the ground and she started to claw at the arm around her waist. _

_“Tikki--” she started to yell when she noticed the leather that covered the arm holding her._ **I know this leather,** _and then a deep chuckle from behind her confirmed her suspicions._

_ “Chat!” She smacked at his arm. “I was about to kick your ass!” _

_ “Lucky for me you stopped then.” She could vividly imagine the smirk on his face and twinkle in his eyes.  She sighed, and relaxed into his embrace, as her dropped onto the roof to re-position her before they were off together, leaving her no chance to transform. _

_ “Chat, put me down so I can transform and you don’t have to hold me!” she shouted in his ear through the roaring wind. _

_ “Holding you is the whole point, Purr-incess.” He breathed into her ear quietly, but she heard every word clearly. She looked at him, and he just winked before turning his attention back to where he was going. _

_ The next time he was on a solid surface and not vault jumping, she transferred to his back and held on tightly. He was up to something, so she’d play along. She kissed  his neck and nestled her chin into the crook of his shoulder, looking past it and trying to guess their destination. He reached up and grabbed one of her hand, kissing her palm in the way he knew she loved before securing her around him more tightly and vaulting off again. _

_ He bounced and flipped over the city making her giggle by squealing every time they were freefalling for a moment. She was never worried though, he would never let her go. _

_ Finally, after nearly a half hour, they arrived, breathless and windblown in a gated greenspace. All her past weariness had drained away, and she felt exhilarated by the cool night air and the crazy cat by her side. She looked around for the first time and gasped. They’d descended into another realm and were enveloped on all sides by a magical grotto. A wall of red roses surrounded them growing up a tall wrought iron face and protecting them from the world. Massive willows and beech trees created a canopy over their heads and a maze of freesia, orange blossoms and lilacs dotted the slightly overgrown grass below their feet. There were absolutely no lights, and the only luminescence came from the moon that shone above them. _

_ “Kitty,” she breathed out, turning to him. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” _

_ “Now that you’re here, neither have I.” _

**Such a cheese ball,** _ she rolled her eyes, but grabbed him anyway. Her fingers digging into the supple leather covering his chest, she pulled him down into a passionate kiss. One arm encircled her, lifting her feet slightly off the ground, while the other dug into her hair, completely dislodging the bun she’d hastily thrown it up into earlier. She reached to link her arms around his neck, when she felt something brush her fingers. She opened her eyes and saw his tail swishing rapidly behind him. She pulled back and couldn’t help but laugh. _

_ “Mon chaton,” she giggled, pushing some wayward hair back from his face. “I should kiss you transformed more often.” She winked at him and he just wiggled his eyebrows, not at all embarrassed. She felt his tail wrap around her waist and pull her closer. She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged innocently kissing her again before lifting her bridal style and walking around a particularly large tree at the center of the grotto.  _

_ On the other side lay a tartan blanket and a small basket next to a small patch of daisies. _

_ “Aw, my favorite!” he set her down on the blanket and she leaned over to smell the simple flower. She noticed that the ground was freshly turned under them and she turned back to Chat.  _

_ “I wanted to leave a piece of us in the garden.” _

_ She looked at him, amazed that she could possibly love him more than she already did. _

_ “Where are we?” She glanced around at their mythical surroundings. _

_ “It’s the private garden attached to grandparent’s city home,” He  sat behind her against the tree and she curled up between his legs and leaned back against his chest . “It’s technically my dad’s now, and to be honest I haven’t been here since I was a kid, but...I thought you’d like it.” _

_ “It’s magical,” she breathed out, running her fingers through the grass. _

_ “Then you fit right in.” He leaned down and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “You can actually just see the house through the trees right there,” he pointed to her left and she noticed the gleam of windows. The grotto itself wasn’t huge, but it was cozy by the cluster of imposing trees. “We’re just on the edge of the city,” he continued. _

_ “It’s beautiful. I love it, really, Kitty. Thank you for sharing it with me.” She pulled his arms tighter around her. _

_ “I do want to share it with you,” his voice took on a deeper tone. “I want to live here with you someday. Having morning coffee in the front room, playing with our kids in the yard. We can put a tire swing right there,” he pointed up to a very specific branch in the willow tree. “I want to lay for days with you on the rooftop balcony, and grow old listening to you boss me around in the kitchen. But first,” he lifted his head and she rotated in his lap to look at him, “I want to get a tiny studio apartment with you on campus. It’ll probably be horrible with a nasty landlord and leaky windows, but it’ll be ours. You’ll be there and it’ll be home.” He took a breath. “Will you move in with me, Marinette.” _

_ “You are my home, Adrien. I’ll go anywhere as long as it’s with you.” _

  
He looked over at Marinette now, her steps echoing in the empty apartment as she sized up the space with her designer’s eye. No, it hadn’t _exactly_ gone as planned, but they’d made it here. And since when did their life take the _easy_ path?


	3. Chapter 2

 

“Chaton!” Marinette gritted out, trying to balance the grocery bag she was carrying without letting the ones on her shoulders throw her off balance. She was strong for her size, but Ladybug magic aside, she was clumsy, and these bags were just asking to be dropped. 

She heard Adrien’s voice from the living room, a low rumble through the wall, and realized there was someone in there with him. Sighing, she hefted the bag higher. She had just gotten a very strange voicemail from Chloé and really wanted to talk to Adrien about it, but she supposed it could wait. She hadn’t sounded  _ too _ dire, but then Chloé-- despite her teenage years indicating differently--was not one to be dramatic within their group.  

“Uh, Adrien?” She called more hesitantly, hoping whoever it was hadn’t heard her call him ‘kitten’. Yikes.

“Coming! Coming!” She heard his socked feet pad across their parquet floors towards her. He navigated what, in the last three months they’d lived there, was slowly becoming a disaster zone, also known as her design space.  Their place was tiny-- just like Adrien promised, but luckily without the leaky windows--and her design work ended up happening in the living room area. She had a show coming up at the end of the year, and the only place the dress form wasn’t completely in the way was the far half of their living space. Adrien claimed all the fabric made it homey, but he mainly wouldn’t complain because otherwise she would be stuck at the studio all night and they’d never see each other. 

He took the bag from her and it lowered, letting her see his face.  _ Why does he look suspicious? _ She furrowed her brow at him and  peeked over his shoulder.

_ Who’s here _ ? She mouthed, nodding in the direction of their living room.

“Oh, it’s just--” he was cut off when another bag was taken from her shoulder.

“Hello my dear,” Gabriel leaned over and kissed her cheek in greeting, and she reciprocated.

“Gabriel!” she smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. 

“Grab her other bag, son. I’ll help you unload.” He motioned to Adrien and then walked into their small galley kitchen.

“Hey,” he leaned over to give her a brief kiss but his father’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Hurry up, kitten!” Adrien rolled his eyes, but Marinette burst out laughing.

“Better not keep Lord of the Butterflies waiting in there,” she said loudly to Adrien, and heard Gabriel’s loud chortle float back towards them.

She followed Adrien down the hall and watched the Agreste boys from the doorway.

“Can you stay for dinner, Gabriel?”

“If you have room for me, my dear.” he glaned at her over his shoulder.

“You’re always welcome, you know that. I’m glad you finally got a chance to see the place...err...finished.” She glanced around the corner quickly to see what state he had found the living room, cringing at the warzone in the corner, but Gabriel just laughed.

“He’s too neat,” He nodded towards his son with his head while he placed the lettuce and carrots in a bowl for later. “It’s good for him to live with a bit of a mess. Us creative minds can’t help it, anyway.”

“Speaking of creative minds, I have some design sketches to finish for a presentation tomorrow.” She looked over at Adrien to get his attention. “Give me a bit and we’ll start dinner?”

“I’ll start sous cheffing in preparation,” he winked at her, knowing how bossy she was in the kitchen. She looked back to Gabriel and noticed he had perked up.

“What are you working on?”

“Do you want to come see?” She asked, knowing his answer. She had really gotten close to Adrien’s father in the last few years. She loved Adela too, and often had coffee and baked with the older woman when she was at the Agreste household, but her and Gabriel just understood each other. She remembered spending many an afternoon in high school going over and waiting for Adrien to get done a shoot only to completely lose track of time going through potential designs or debating the resurgence of certain trends with Gabriel. He had taken a massive interest in her work and development as a designer, always interested in her newest designs and introducing her to valuable connections every time she and Adrien attended one of his work functions. Adrien had sometimes joked that she was the protege he always wanted, but she could always see true pride in her boyfriend's eyes and knew he was beyond pleased that their families melded so well. All he ever wanted was a large and happy family, and he fit in with the Dupain-Chengs just as well as she did with the Agrestes. 

 

“Ahh,” Adrien sighed dramatically as his father moved to follow Marinette out of the kitchen. “Go, fly away my little bugs, have fun without me. I’ll just be here, slaving away in the kitchen for your supper.”

Marinette turned and stuck her tongue out at him, and his father just chuckled. 

“Always,  _ fur- _ gotten,” Plagg zipped up beside him, noticing that he was unpacking the cheese.

“ _ Tail _ me about it,” Adrien threw a chunk of camembert his way and then gave Plagg some madeleines Marinette must have grabbed from her parent’s bakery to go take to Tikki.

As he chopped vegetables, Adrien heard Marinette’s voice rise and fall from the other room, the way it did when she was excitedly describing something. She would start to talk louder and louder in her excitement, and then realizing her volume, she’d lower her voice, but the cycle would only repeat itself. He smiled, thinking of his two creative geniuses in the next room. He was glad his father knew his girl so well, he would need his keen design mind for what they had been talking about. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

“Finally, I’m invited over, and it’s only because you need something from me.” His father sat regally on the one armchair they possessed and Adrien rolled his eyes. 

“We’ve invited you over so many times. It’s not our fault that you’re a global design sensation and are too busy for us.” Adrien looked pointedly at his dad, but there was a smile on his face. It had not escaped Gabriel’s notice that his son had only spoke in the collective ‘we’ since he had arrived and he had to suppress a smile. His son was one of the lucky ones and had gotten it right the first time. 

“But I do need your help,” Adrien continued, but then stopped, nervously. Gabriel leaned forward, intrigued. He and his son’s relationship had improved tremendously in the past few years and he hadn’t seen Adrien temper his words so much since he was fifteen. 

“Adrien,” he began, his tone soft, worried that something was wrong.

“No, sorry. I’ve decided...I’ve just never said it out loud before.” A brilliant smile lit up his face. “I’m going to ask Marinette to marry me.”

Gabriel was shocked, pleasantly so, but they were both very young. Then again, so were he and Adela when they wed.

“Not yet,” Adrien added, seeing the skepticism on his father’s face. “Probably sometime this  spring, so a while away. My birthday was a few weeks ago, and hers is in a few months, so we’ll both be twenty-one. I mean,” he started to ramble, “I doubt we’ll get married right away. Mari has her side design business that is really stepping up lately, her clients have doubled in the last few months, and I want to at least finish my master’s beforehand, and Alya and Nino are out of the country right now--”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Gabriel cut him off, placing a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, and the tension drained out of his son.

“It’s right, you know? And I guess it may seem soon, and maybe unnecessary because we’re young and we’re already committed to each other, but...I kinda just want to shout it to the world.” His son looked up at him, and he was simultaneously a young boy and a grown man in Gabriel’s eyes. Now he was getting engaged, and Gabriel suddenly felt a wave of emotion overtake him.

“I am so happy for you both, and selfishly very excited to call Marinette my daughter.” Adrien broke out in a grin and tackled his father in a huge hug the way he had when he was younger, and Gabriel savored every moment of it.

“So you’ll help me then?” Adrien asked pulling back. 

“Of course! What do you need?”

Adrien then went on to detail his plans for the ring. Sabine had not so subtly hinted about a year ago that  _ when _ Adrien finally decided to pop the question, she had two jade baguettes, each about 8mm, that had been passed down through her family for generations. Her mother wore them as a necklace her whole life and Sabine was given them as earrings on the announcement of her engagement. If Adrien wanted, he could use them in Marinette’s ring. Sabine brought them out and showed them to Adrien, and he knew they would be perfect. A vibrant clear green, they were reminiscent of the color of his own eyes and he could imagine them vividly surrounding the asscher cut diamond his grandmother had left him for this very occasion. 

“I know it’s not your area of expertise, but the two of you talk design so often I thought you’d have a clearer idea of her style. I also want all our parents to be involved and have some input so it’s more meaningful…” He trailed off and looked at his father expectantly.

“I would be honored,” Gabriel responded, feeling his eye well up a bit at the idea and was impossibly even prouder of his son in that moment. 


	4. Chapter 3

Marinette was sitting in her favorite place on campus. A small green space, secluded from the bustle of students by a smattering of trees with a stone domed structure at it’s center. She often thought it was under-appreciated. Then again, she was grateful most people ignored it. More for her. 

Usually, inspiration sought her out in this spot, but as she sat on the marble floor, staring out at the carefully manicured plane trees, she could not concentrate at all. It was the first day of December, and the air was finally descending into a winter chill. She pulled the leather jacket she stole from Adrien around her more securely, zipping it up and pulling her scarf tightly around her throat. She felt Tikki nestle deeper into its folds against her neck and smiled, but her kwami only reminded her of why her mind was wondering so forcefully today.

It had been about three weeks, and she had finally gotten back in touch with Chloé. After talking about it with Adrien after Gabriel had left that day, they’d tried to get in contact with Chlo é numerous times , but her phone just kept going to voicemail. Marinette had made a habit of calling everyday since, leaving increasing worried messages, but it wasn’t until this morning that she’d gotten a response.

_ “I think I’m safe for now, but don’t call back. I’ll be there tomorrow. We need to talk.” _ Chloé’s uncharacteristically low voice had reverberated through her ear. Marinette was confused, she knew Chloé still had a week left in her fall term and Chloé had worked too hard her last two years of lycée to get into UCL, she wasn’t going to slack off for no reason. 

She’d been in the studio when Chloé called, so Marinette had gotten the message a few hours later. She immediately texted Adrien and sent him an audio file of the voicemail, but she knew he planned to spend today in the library churning out a 25 page paper he had due the next week. He probably had his phone off or forgot it at home, so she didn’t expect to hear back from him for a few hours. Chloé had been very clear that she would contact them tomorrow, so there was no point in worrying him when all they could do was wait.

So Marinette worried alone. She’d sent an email to Alya, but depending on where she was in the country--Marinette honestly could not keep track of that girl--it could be a few days. Their correspondence had been sporadic since Alya left to study in Jordan and Marinette missed the ease of walking down the street or across the living room and having her best friend right there. Alya was in love with the work she was doing, but Marinette was selfishly counting down the days until she was back in Paris. 

She didn’t even bother trying to call Nino. It was early afternoon so it’d probably be at least another 4 hours until he would wake up for whatever gig he had, if he was even in their time zone right now. She’d given up trying to follow along with his tour schedule and just texted him as late as possible.

So, with no one answering her anytime soon, she came to her favorite spot looking for some quiet and hoping to figure out something for her final piece. She had been lucky enough to be chosen as one of the few third year students to be included in the end of term fashion department showcase. She was only allowed three pieces, so she wanted to make sure they popped and were truly a representation of her best work. Gabriel had given her amazing feedback a few weeks ago, but that was when she was still in the sketch phase, everything was still hypothetical. Now, she had her first two almost complete and a muslin mock of what she  _ thought _ she wanted the third piece to be. Even putting it together now, there was something just off. She’d been struggling with it for awhile now. It was an elusive design. An abstract idea that she forced into reality, it was still clinging to intangibility. 

She stared at a side-by-side of the three pieces she had planned, trying to focus her mind on the challenge. She’d been playing with subtle hues and leather, not in a small part inspired by a certain cat she lived with. Adrien had taken to dressing in a very classic way. She called it his ‘professor’ look, but it was true. He wore a lot of sweaters over crisp button ups, dark jeans and impeccably tailored khakis. She swore she saw him eyeing up a tweed jacket the other day. She smiled to herself. She loved her little nerd who, at night, transformed into a leather-clad vigilante and prowled the Parisian streets. 

Her first two pieces were day-wear. Simple looks with classic lines, but infused with accents of leather that simultaneously added an edge and a softness to the pieces. Her third piece was tricky. It was almost entirely leather, with sharp angles but a suppleness of movement. Starting to put it together, though, it was veering much too far into the zone of ‘dominatrix’ and Marinette was having the hardest time marrying what she imagined with what was actually coming into reality. It needed to soften but still have the strength that was the running theme in her pieces. 

Just then, she had a ping on her phone. Checking, she saw and email from Adela about Christmas gifts and  _ had Adrien mentioned anything lately _ ? Marinette smiled, remembering the tweed jacket in the storefront they’d passed the other day. Doing a quick internet search, she found the store’s website and sent the link to the jacket to Adela. Then she went back, something catching her eye.  The store had a whole selection of imported Scottish tweed and tartan. She scrolled though a few pages and it hit her. She wanted her pieces to be soft and comfortable, but portray strength as well. Leather was like that. It was strong and edgy, but supple and comforting, weathering the passage of time with dignity. Tweed was like that, too. That was her answer.  Infused with the turbulent  history of Scotland and protecting its wearer against the harsh highland weather, it was at once a symbol of strength and pride and a comforting reminder of home and warm fire hearths. Leather and tweed. Chat and Adrien. It was the perfect balance.

Her hand started to fly across her sketchbook, tweaking her first two outfits, and completely reworking her last one. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she finally sat back, she looked on in satisfaction at the creations that the Bruce and Cat Woman alike would approve of. 

Checking her watch, she had just enough time to run to her favorite fabric shop before it closed. She texted Nathanael, who worked at the register after his morning classes, to let him know she was on her way in case she was a few minutes late, and dashed towards the metro. Thinking twice, she veered into the nearest alley and transformed. This would be faster. Swinging to the nearest rooftop, she dashed towards the shop, her worry over Chloé pushed to the side for now. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Someone...or...something had been following Chloé. For the last month, strange things had been happening around her. She’d swear it was Alya messing with her, but everytime she thinks it’s an illusion, she turns out to be wrong. Chloé  _ hates _ being wrong. 

First it was an infestation of ladybugs in her apartment. She was mildly annoyed, but partly amused that out of all bugs it was ladybugs. Then the next night a black cat was scratching at her window and prowling around the fire escape. When she went to give it some food--stupid, she knew, but she had a soft spot for black cats--it ran away immediately. She had an inexplicable urge to follow it, but just barely managed to push it away. She was usually one to follow her gut feelings, but there was something...off...about this one. The next week when a fox crossed in from of her on her walk home, she knew something was definitely off. A fox, in the middle of London. Not impossible, of course, but unlikely, and in addition to everything else that had been happening, she knew something was wrong.

She called Marinette the next day, not too alarmed yet, but definitely wanting to talk to someone about what the hell might be going on.

Two days later she was eating her lunch in the park with a few classmates and a turtle walked out of the pond and over to them, coming to rest directly in front of Chloé, its endless eyes staring at her. The people she was with cooed and took photos, but Chloé was deeply disturbed. Either someone was doing this, and not through entirely natural means, or the world was  _ really _ trying to send her a message and it had something to do with her friends. 

That was the first night she noticed someone following her. An unassuming woman in her late twenties with long dark hair and wearing an unfortunate fashion choice of khaki cargo pants, she stood out easily on the London sidewalk in Chloé’s trendy neighborhood. Chloé pulled out her phone to take a discreet photo of the woman, but as soon as she pointed it in her direction, the screen shuddered and went black. She tried to turn it on, but it was useless. Hurrying home, she locked her three deadbolts, pulled all the curtains closed, and turned on all the lights. Pollen floated in the center of the room, looking as disturbed as Chloé felt.

“It’s not just me then?” She addressed her kwami, and Pollen shook her head.

“There is something wrong about that woman, past the pants,” Pollen mirrored her earlier thoughts, but there was no humor in either of them. There was definitely something sinister about the woman. 

The following week, every time she tried to write a description of her or text one of her friends about what was happening, her laptop would die and her phone would be fried. Finally, when she was sick of lying to the guy at the electronics store about how she was managing to kill all her electronics, she stopped trying. She went on with her semester, managing to finish most of her work early. 

Cargo pants still followed her every night, but nothing happened. Chloé had the feeling that she was sizing her up. For what, she had no idea, but she was definitely not getting warm and fuzzy vibes from the chick.

Coming home to find her apartment ransacked was the final straw. She went through her trashed apartment, coming to a halt in front of her large bedroom mirror. As if she were wading through water, her hand slowly raised to cover her mouth in horror. All her jewelry boxes had been overturned, the contents strewn across the vanity and floor, but it looked like nothing was stolen. Looking back at the mirror, she immediately knew why.

In smudged lipstick--her favorite,  _ expensive _ plum colored lipstick, she noted with more than a little anger--were the words  _ Where is it? _ next to a crude drawing of the ring that never left her finger: her miraculous. She looked down at the crown shaped gold ring encircling her right middle finger, and over to Pollen in horror.

“We need to go home. Now.”

Chloé gathered her things while Pollen futilely tried to clean up. Her kwami settled for putting all the jewelry back where it came from; Pollen had a soft spot for the finer things in life too.

Bags packed, she called Mathys and asked if she could borrow his family’s jet for an emergency trip to Paris. When he left for his semester abroad, they had broken things off. He had been confused at her insistence while he had been willing to go long-distance--after all he had the family jet--but Chloé had said it would be too hard. Breaking up had been the logical decision, and Chloé had regretted pushing for it every day since. 

They texted from time to time, but she hadn’t had a real conversation with him since the end of summer. He still answered immediately, much to Chloé’s pleasure, and agreed without question. He had been by her side practically as long as Pollen and knew about the miraculous for years, acting as her steady support all through lycée. She had been surprised how easy it was to love him, and at his easy acceptance of her abrasive and sometimes cold ways. Her strength and intensity didn’t scare him. That’s why when she called, he knew that it wasn’t for a trivial reason. 

She hung up soon after, feeling an unexpected pain in her chest realizing how long it had been since she’d seen him, but pushed that aside and called a car to head to the airfield. Glancing around her in a paranoid manner before closing the sedan door and locking it securely, she borrowed the driver's phone and left a short, cryptic message to Marinette. 

Staring through the rain soaked window at the night lights of London, she had a horrible feeling that this was just the beginning. 


	5. Chapter 4

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Adrien left the library. His feeling of extreme accomplishment over finishing his entire paper drowned by his sleep deprivation, he trudged slowly towards his apartment along the sporadically lit walkways through the university. He thanked Marinette for the hundredth time in his head for convincing him to go for the smaller studio closer to campus instead of the larger one-bedroom a few metro stops away. He honestly would have just slept in a remote corner of the library if he knew there was going to be a thirty minute commute home after. Thankfully, though, Marinette won that argument and within ten minutes he was walking up the stairs to their third-floor abode. 

Unlocking the multiple locks, he closed it securely behind him and shuffled into the living room. Dropping his stuff in a heap by the kitchen door, he blindly walked towards the bookshelf that divided their ‘bedroom’ from the rest of the open space. He was about to collapse in bed in an exhausted heap when a blonde flick of hair caught his attention from the couch. Turning his head, he saw Marinette and Chloé watching him with amused expressions. He remembered Marinette talking to him about a weird message from Chloé, but he hadn’t given it too much thought. Chloé could more than handle herself, and was probably just keeping them in the loop about something.

Seeing her now, despite the laughing expression on her face at his zombie-like state, he could tell that his oldest friend was truly rattled by whatever that something was. The selfish part of  him wanted to just ignore it all and sleep.  _ Sleep. _ Even the word whispered to him seductively from inside his head.

Instead, he took a look at the two and just said, “Coffee” before trudging back into the kitchen to find the strongest blend they had. Lucky for him, Marinette’s perkiness ran on caffeine and they had a wide assortment for his perusal. Pot brewed, he brought it and three cups into the living room. The girls looked like they hadn’t slept yet either, and Chloé in particular looked like she hadn’t gotten a good-night’s sleep in weeks. Not that he would ever say that to her. He  _ did  _  value his life.

He poured her a cup, and then leaned back next to her on the couch, putting his arm around her shoulders. Chloé sank back, wedged in the small sofa between Marinette and Adrien, but instead of being uncomfortable, Adrien felt the tension leave her body, as if she finally fest safe. 

“Chlo,” Marinette took her hand, the one not wrapped securely around her steaming coffee cup, and continued. “Tell him what you told me.”

After taking three long fortifying sips and practically draining her coffee, Chloé sat back and started to twist her ring anxiously. Pollen had flown towards an inset in the bookshelf Marinette had fashioned with a plush bed for the kwamis, and Chloé started in on what had been happening to her in the last few weeks. As she continued, Adrien became more and more unsettled. It wasn’t anything explicitly violent, but someone clearly knew she had the miraculous and wanted it.

“Why you?” Adrien asked when she had finished. “You are the least known out of all of us. So if they know about you…” He trailed off and Chloé nodded. 

“I think those signs were from her too. I thought, maybe, it was a sign from the universe or something. Telling me to get in contact with you all and warn you about something, but it freaked Pollen out too, so it must be Cargo Pants trying to get in my head. She clearly knows about my connection to the rest of you.”

“Which means we’re all in danger,” Marinette finished for her, still holding her long-ago finished coffee mug like a security blanket in one hand and Chloé’s hand in the other. 

Adrien wiped a hand over his face, and rested his chin in it.

“We need to warn the others. Nothing too serious, we don’t even know what’s going on, but just in case--”

“I emailed Alya this morning and texted Nino when Chloé got here. Neither had responded yet, but…” Marinette shrugged. They were both a bit elusive this year, so it wasn’t anything to worry about yet.

“Yeah, I think Nino’s in Stockholm this week for a temporary residence somewhere, so he’s probably spinning right now. I’ll check in the morning. And Alya?”

“Last I heard she was doing some field trip to somewhere a few hours from the city. I don’t know what her wifi situation is like.”

“Okay,” Adrien got up and collected the mugs. “There’s nothing to do now then. We’ll have to wait until morning. Maybe Fu?”

“I’ll leave him a message now that we’re going to stop over first thing.” She turned to Chloé. “I’ll get you sheets; this is a pull out bed. Unless you want to go to your dad’s?”

Chloé quickly shook her head, she definitely didn’t want to walk all the way to the other side of the city and regardless, felt much better in the presence of her other miraculous holders. Marinette nodded in complete understanding.

Chloé stood up and began to pull out the bed while Marinette went to get extra sheets and Adrien cleaned up the coffee. She paused for a moment and watched them move in perfect choreography with each other and smiled. There was a time that she had been resentful of Marinette for taking Adrien from her, but that time had long since passed. After so many years, even someone as stubborn as Chloé was couldn’t deny how they just fit together, and besides, after being with Mathys, she’d realized how completely wrong Adrien was for her. Her hope of dating him was more the product of their parents than anything else, and she was grateful that they had such an easy friendship now despite those years of confused infatuation on her part. 

She was happy that her friends had found such a love. Still, seeing them together sent a pang through her chest as she remembered what she’d given up.

She shook herself from that train of thought, and finished setting up the bed. All the stress of the last week and especially tonight was just making her emotional. Tomorrow would be better, and she was with her people now. She finally felt safe.

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Fu was not surprised to hear from them, which almost freaked Marinette out more than Chloé’s story the night before. He had told her and Adrien that he sensed some disturbance, but it was as if he knew something was coming and was only waiting for them to confirm it. Even without a miraculous, Fu had power that none of them could understand, and she was a little afraid to ask just  _ what _ that power was.

Chloé had been undeniably rattled. After Adrien had passed out the night before, Chloé had revealed to Marinette that she at first had thought it was her stalker again, and Marinette was indescribably angry at this woman for targeting Chloé out of all of them and making her relive that.  

Queen Bee was never really a part of the public consciousness. The rest of them had explained to reporters that the hero preferred to help without being the focus of any attention--that it made her uncomfortable--and everyone surprisingly seemed to really respect her wishes. Well...almost everyone. One day, Alya got news through the blog-iverse that there was an entire blog dedicated to the very elusive Queen Bee. They all thought it was funny, after all they each had their own fan clubs at that point, and now so did Queen Bee. It kind of annoyed Chloé, but she shrugged it off. Then things took a turn. The owner of the blog started finding Queen Bee almost every time she was patrolling, posting picture after picture of her, even in locations where they had sworn they were all well out of sight. When he started posting pictures of every blonde he saw on the street and analyzing why they may or may not be Queen Bee, they had to put a stop to it.  They thought about paying him a visit, but in addition to the fact that threatening a civilian was not exactly very hero-like, they didn’t want to play into this man’s hand as he clearly craved attention, even negative attention, from them. Instead, they brought his blog to the attention of the police, and while the man had his 15 minutes of fame, threatening to sue Queen Bee and the entire miraculous team over some ridiculous claim of defamation of character, he thankfully faded away. He was fined and was incarcerated for a short amount of time, but he apparently learned his lesson. Marinette always suspected that his sudden disinterest with Queen Bee may have been  _ encouraged _ by a late night visit from a certain leather-clad superhero, but she never asked. They’d agreed as a team to not confront the man, but if Chat had...well, she wouldn’t have been against it.  

Queen Bee had taken a step back for a while, even more elusive than she usually was, because she feared that he was still secretly following her and might catch her releasing her transformation. They all supported her hiatus, and a few months later she was able to join them again, sporadic as it was. She seemed to recover, and life went on.

Now, following behind Master Fu into his apartment, Chloé’s arm was securely linked with Marinette’s and she could tell that being followed for the last weeks had caused that past trauma to resurface. Marinette was honestly surprised that Chloé was able to stand it for as long as she did, but then Chloé had always been the most stubborn of them all. 

Adrien followed silently behind them, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, and walked with Fu into the kitchen. Pulling their chairs out for them, Adrien then went to grab the tray with tea that Master Fu was carrying and settled himself at the table as well. 

“Why were you expecting us, Fu?” Adrien asked, muttering a ‘thank you’ as he took the cup of tea Marinette had just poured for him. She continued until they were all supplied with the steaming oolong and then Master Fu spoke. 

“I have a suspicion...but, Chloé. Tell me what has happened first.” He took a sip of tea, and Chloé sighed before launching back into the entire drama. When she had finished, Master Fu sat back, watching her carefully and with a tinge of tenderness.

“I am sorry, my dear. I can imagine it has not been easy for you.”

Chloé bristled under his knowing eyes and Marinette could see Adrien put it together in his head too.

“Chlo--” he started, but she spoke over him.

“I was more afraid she was going to throw rocks at me,” she laughed it off nervously, but they got the point. She didn’t want to talk about it.

“Rocks?” Master Fu suddenly sat forward, in rapt attention and he seemed to age before them.

“Yeah,” Chloé responded hesitantly. “She was always fiddling with a rock in her hand.

“White and black, made of marble.” Master Fu said it as a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” Chloé looked surprised, and mildly spooked that he knew this. “I mean, maybe it was marble. I never really tried to get a very close look at it.”

Master Fu sighed, and sat back closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“Master Fu,” Marinette questioned, her tone respectful but demanding. “Why is that rock important?”

He took his time, and she almost repeated the question thinking he had not heard her. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked directly at Marinette.

“It is as I feared. The Philosopher’s stone has been found.”


	6. Chapter 5

Nino walked out of the eerily still club around 6 am. Just an hour before, it had been pulsing with life, but now it stood motionless among the waking traffic of early morning. He checked his phone, only to see that it was completely dead, and made a mental note to actually use that external battery pack that Alya had bought him for his birthday. Thinking of her put a bittersweet smile on his face as he stuffed his hands into his pockets for warmth, pulling his jacket closer to protect Wayzz from the early morning chill. Flipping up the collar of the navy blue peacoat Adrien had gotten him--with Marinette’s assurance that its classic lines wouldn’t hurt his DJ cred--he started to trudge towards the temporary apartment he had snagged.

It was still blindingly dark outside, with strategic streetlamps placed along the street giving only sporadic halos of light. He’d been in Stockholm a few weeks now, and the dark of winter was novel at first, but it was slowly getting depressing. Soon, he would need a trip back to the city of lights. 

He was thinking about somehow finding a ticket home for the holidays when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on edge. He deliberately kept his pace even and tried to relax the tension in his shoulders. Hanging a right a block early, Nino discreetly grabbed a glimpse behind him down the street as he turned. A young woman, maybe about 4 or 5 years older than him, was directly on his six. Dressed in a mishmosh of khaki and leather, she looked more like she belonged on the set of an Indiana Jones movie than walking the early morning streets of the Swedish capital, but she wasn’t someone most would consider threatening. Still, the determined flare of her gait and angry hunch of her shoulders put Nino on edge. He felt Wayzz shift in his jacket, and he knew his vibe wasn’t wrong.

He gradually increased his speed, bopping his head like he was listening to music to throw any suspicion off. Crossing the bridge into Gamla Stan, he took advantage of the older streets to wind his way back and forth before making it to the other end of the island. In Södermalm, he veered off the street, transformed and ended up perched on the roof of the city museum, just watching.  No Indy in sight, he slid back down to the ground, but stayed transformed for the last few blocks to his apartment. Sneaking inside through the fire escape, he released his transformation and went around securely locking each window and pulling the shutters closed. 

He turned to Wayzz.

“Something is up,” he stated simply, and the pensive look on the kwami’s face only confirmed his suspicions.

“It’s not a miraculous,” Wayzz began, “but it feels...similar? Like an artificial approximation.”

“So I was right, there was something off with that chick.” He shook his head and walked to the corner that acted as a kitchenette to plug his phone in. After a few seconds, it lit up and he was bombarded with texts from Adrien and a few from Marinette too.

“Yup, something’s definitely up.” Wayzz floated over to see what Nino was staring at as the young man sighed. 

“I’m thinking it’s time to pop around home.”

He went to grab his bag and started stuffing his few belongings in it. Tomorrow was his last show anyway. He’d just have to cancel his gig in Copenhagen…

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

“I’m sorry, the what?” Chloé’s voice rang out, waking them all from their confused stupors. She looked around at Adrien and Marinette. “Have we suddenly descended into Narnia? Do I _ look _ like Harry Potter?” 

“Two completely different fandoms, Chlo,” Adrien answered,  hanging his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Whatever, fanboy. You know what I mean.” She turned her annoyed gaze back on Fu.

“I don’t know much about it myself,” Fu responded, immune to her rude outbursts at this point. Chloé had a genuine affection for the elder, but he had an infuriating tendency to be deliberately cryptic and withhold information. Chloé had no time for either. “It’s a legend my predecessor mentioned...I’ve never looked into it thoroughly, but I think it’s mentioned in the records somewhere. One moment.” He got up, leaving them all to ponder what he’d just dropped on them. 

“I never knew he met his predecessor,” Marinette muttered, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “I never knew he  _ had _ a predecessor. Do you think that’s how it works? Like, someone trained him?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the knees of her crossed legs.

“I don’t know. I wish Nino were here.” Adrien sighed, and Chloé nodded in agreement. Nino had somehow become the group’s de facto historian. He spent the most time with Master Fu, just visiting and talking to the man, and he’d managed to accumulate more information than the rest of them from his kwami. 

“Has he called you back yet?” Marinette looked over at Adrien who shook his head.

“I left my phone at the flat,” he grimaced.

“Adrien,” Marinette, face palmed before digging into her own bag and fishing out her own phone. “Oh!” She held it up and showed the rest of them the string of texts from Nino.

 

_ \--Wierdness _

_ \--Indiana Jones chick on my 6 _

_ \--be home tomorrow if I can grab a flight, maybe the next day _

_ \--has anyone been able to get a hold of Als? _

_ \--Adrien, answer your phone _

 

Marinette smirked at the last one. She more than once had gotten a call from Chat Noir’s baton simply because it was the one phone that Adrien never lost.

“Indiana Jones chick,” Chloé muttered to herself. “Sound a lot like cargo pants.” She crossed her arms and sat back against the wall just as Master Fu walked back in carrying a large leatherbound book.

“She has found Nino, too?” he asked, setting it down on the mat between them and sinking into a criss-cross seated position.

“It looks like it. He’ll be here tomorrow,” Marinette put her phone away and leaned forward as Fu opened the dusty volume. Their kwamis all floated over to watch as Fu flipped through the yellowing pages before finally settling on an insert towards the back. 

“Ah, yes,” Fu pointed to handwritten notes in the margins of a section called ‘Balance of Powers’.

Chloé leaned forward and read the inscription. 

**_By no mortal hand has or shall a stable replication of this balance be attempted. Guarding the sacred knowledge of the miraculous shall be the responsibility of each wielder to bar future unholy alchemy._ **

And then, below it in a different hand:

**_Desymaic’s  Theo petra_ **

Adrien, who had been reading over her shoulder looked up.

“God rock?” He translated, and Chloé couldn't help but roll her eyes. He always had been a suck up to their Greek and Latin tutor. Master Fu nodded.

“Another name, more aptly describing its intention and not its creator.”

“Tell it to me straight. What do you know?” Chloé leaned back, tired of the slow trickle of information being shared. She was all for referencing your sources, she was a pre-law student after all, but Fu’s flare for mystery needed to be  carouled every once in awhile.

“Other than this, I only know a brief legend from the one time my predecessor mentioned it. According to the story, long ago in Hellenistic times, there was a philosopher and alchemist who befriended a miraculous holder and became enthralled with the idea of replicating its powers. He thought that it was perhaps the key to creating the philosopher’s stone.”

“Desymaic,” Adrien filled in the name, referencing the annotation in the book. “Who was he? I’ve never heard of him.”

“And you never will,” Fu responded gravely. “The theo petra was his life’s work, and when he realized what he’d created, he burned all reference to it, nearly his entire collection of notes. Apparently, he was brilliant, but ignorant. Obsessed with the idea of combining all the properties of the seven miraculous into one, his judgement was clouded, and he didn’t stop to think about the precarious balance they held. It was his downfall, and the stone...destroyed him.”

“Destroyed him… how?” Marinette asked tentatively, noting Master Fu’s careful wording choice. Chloé looked over at her, and saw the fear she herself was feeling reflected in Marinette’s face. Chloé vividly remembered the half-crazed look in the eye of the woman who followed her. The destruction and smeared note graffitied on the wall of her apartment…

“The story lacks a consensus. Some say the stone drove him mad, others say he saw its effects on one of his young students. Regardless, in a moment of clarity, he discovered the corrupting power of the stone and attempted to destroy it, at the cost of his own life, but it didn’t work. By this time, others had heard rumors of what he had created, and would stop at nothing to hold this power.  _ Barbarians, _ the legend calls them, though from the point of view of the Romans this could mean anyone from the Goths to the Carthaginians.  So his apprentice took the stone and fled.”

“Where?” Adrien, had leaned forward, engrossed in the story.

“No one knows. Some say he buried himself alive, holding the stone, others say he took to sea, throwing it into the abyss. The idea was to take it somewhere beyond the reaches of man. And it seemed to have worked, but if my impression is correct…”

“ _ Man _ has a lovely habit of digging up the past,” Chloé sat back, rubbing her temples in agitation.

“What could the stone do? Other than it’s corrupting influence, what was the power that Desymaic was to enthralled with?” Marinette asked, getting them back on track.

“Everything. It combined all the powers of the miraculous.”

Marinette and Adrien both leaned back suddenly, as if receiving a physical shock at that news, but Chloé crinkled her brow.

“Then why was she after me? And Nino,” she added, her expression still perplexed. “If the stone is already all powerful, why does she want my miraculous?” Fu sighed.

“I don’t know, but I do know that the power of the stone, while potent, it very unstable. The stability of your miraculous come from their separation. When each new miraculous was created, they deliberately established a balance to all the others, but this stone doesn’t know that. Likely, it believes that the miraculous possess some entity that Desymaic failed to replicate and is therefore the key to truly unfettered power.”

“You talk like it’s a living thing,” Adrien laughed nervously. “It’s just a rock?” In the process of that sentence, Fu’s face grimaced, causing Adrien’s statement to seem more like a question.

“There’s more,” Chloé realized, taking in Master Fu’s expression. He nodded.

“The philosopher tried to do the noble thing in destroying the stone, but I fear he underestimated what he had created, and in trying to destroy it, he killed himself, shedding blood and giving the stone the last thing it needed.” he paused as if for dramatic effect, and Chloé bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming. “Aether,” he finally finished.

“The fifth element,” Adrien realized, looking at Fu, his expression darkening. “In trying to destroy it, he animated the stone.”

Fu, to all their disappointment, nodded.

“And I fear, it has taken control of its next victim.”


	7. Chapter 6

The three friends walked out of Fu’s apartment mentally drained, their faces a sharp contrast to the lively Paris street on the brisk, sunny morning.

“I’m going to go home for a bit. See my dad, try to ignore the looming death cloud following us,” Chloé announced, and Marinette snorted at her blunt appraisal of their situation. 

They both kissed her cheek in farewell, and went their separate ways.

“Home sounds good. How about a bakery stop, chaton?” Marinette looked up at Adrien.

“Chocolate cures all ails,” he agreed readily, and linked by arms intertwined around each other’s waist, they started to amble as one down the cobbled street. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Alya dropped her bags gingerly--careful not to wake Trixx--in her apartment, marveling again at how cool it was inside as soon as she got out of the sun. Jordan may be hot, but it was a dry heat compared to Paris in the summer. Although, she couldn’t decide which wrecked more havoc on her curls. Thank god a braid was always a classic style or else her hair would be a constant bush no matter what she put in it.

Unwrapping her scarf, she hung it up on the line out her window, over the semi-enclosed center of the building, and hoped the wind would dislodge any remaining sand from her week camping in the desert. She walked into the kitchen, poured a cold glass of water, and reached for her phone that she had left near its charger over the past few weeks. There was no reception where they’d been anyway, and she’d rather use her solar panel to charge her multiple cameras. It had been a final field trip for a photojournalism class, but she also was taking videos and hoping to try her hand at nature documentaries. Unfortunately, living creatures were few and far between, but she got some great time lapse videos of the night sky. Paris may be the city of lights, but the stars over the desert ? There was no competition.

Now all she had to do was edit and upload her final work to her class blog. She was anxious to get started, but also hesitant because it was her final assignment in Jordan. Her international journalism program back at her home university was setup to send the students abroad randomly, just as it would be were they sent on real journalistic assignments. They could request regions, and usually the best students had a higher chance of getting the general area they wanted, but Alya chose to let them send her wherever. When she’d gotten Jordan as her first placement, she was a little disappointed. She spoke fluent French, Spanish and English, so she had been hoping for a placement in Africa or South America. Her focus was human rights journalism, and a big part of that investigative process was interviewing locals who experienced the conditions or situations she was researching. Her arabic was non-existent before coming to Amman, and while some people knew some broken English, as soon as she left the city, communicating was impossible. She’d picked up a bit, but not nearly enough to do the kind of interviews she was used to. It was a challenge, but it forced her to learn new techniques. Bonding and communicating with people in other ways. Making connections with some locals that she shared a language with enough for them to want to help her, and focusing on the visual part of her journalism. She’d become particularly attached to her elderly neighbor,  alsayidat Hani and her daughter Aquilah. Aquilah was studying English at the local university, and she’d been instrumental in helping Alya interview some locals on more than one occasion. But even without Aquilah,  the challenge invigorated her, and she honestly had begun to thrive in in the ways of communicating nonverbally.

She was excited to head to Croatia next and focus on the immigrant crises there. It was something she’d been wanting to cover, and a topic she felt passionately about, but somehow the foreign streets of Amman that seemed very overwhelming at first had finally started to feel like home, and now she had to leave and start over somewhere new. At least she had a few more weeks. She was planning to spend her break here and then head straight to Croatia in the new year. She looked down at her phone.  _ Or, maybe not... _

She started to scroll  through her notifications and almost dropped her glass of water. She expected a few messages from Marinette and Nino, maybe Adrien and her siblings too, but the magnitude of increasingly urgent texts and emails startled her. There were even multiple ones from Chloé, so she knew something was wrong. 

Trixx floated over, having finally awoken from the little makeshift den she created in a pocket of Alya’s camera bag.

“Woah,” she said, looking through the texts. They were all cryptically asking how she was and when she’d be back, without saying much else. They were obviously trying not to worry her, but the convergence of all her friends--especially all her  _ miraculous _ friends--checking in at once could not be a coincidence. The messages started a few days after she had left, so ten days had passed without her responding.

She checked the time and cursed. It was 2 am their time.  _ Maybe Nino?  _ She walked over to her calendar and checked the date. He was supposed to be in Copenhagen today. It was his last show. She knew he was trying to go back to Paris for winter break, but didn't know when. Looking at the schedule again she realized it was the last week of Marinette’s term, so more than likely she was up late with her designs.

Making her decision, she pulled up her laptop and video-called her best friend, hoping she had the app open and would see it. The melodic ring echoed through her minuscule apartment and Trixx hovered to her right, just out of view of the camera in case Mari wasn't alone. 

“ALYA!” Marinette practically screamed at her. She was in the living room section of her apartment, a single light from her desk lamp casting an eerie glow on her face. Tikki and Plagg came to hover just over her shoulder, each wearing their own expression of relief at seeing her. That worried Alya even more.  _ What had they thought had happened? What’s going on? _

“Aly?” she heard a vaguely male voice in the background and then saw a bundle of blankets move and promptly roll right off the couch, resulting in an echoing thud on the floor. Marinette cringed, squeezing her eyes shut and grimacing as the body smacked against the coffee table, but didn’t turn around. Suddenly a grinning bespeckled face alongside a much smaller green god appeared in the screen.

“ALYS!” Nino yelled, echoing Marinette’s earlier tone of elation to see her. 

“Not that I’m not touched by all your enthusiasm, but what the hell is going on? I leave to do my final project for two weeks, and suddenly the miraculous are under attack?” She was trying to talk to both of them, but Nino’s face was still occupying most of the screen.

“Nino, back up. Sit down,” Marinette physically shoved his face away from the screen and pointed to another chair for him to bring over. “Why do you say that? Has something happened?” The concern was palpable in Marinette’s voice and eyes.

“Chloé mentioned to be careful in her text, and if I had any doubts that something was going on, your face just confirmed it. What’s up, girl?”

“We don’t--” she looked over at Nino who was drumming on the table and avoiding her eyes. “We don’t really know. There’s someone following us. Well, Chloé mainly and Nino for a little bit too. Adrien and I haven’t seen her… Apparently there’s this ancient artificial miraculous and it’s hunting our miraculous...Nino could explain it better.” Marinette trailed off her rambling, and looked to Nino to continue. Nino had become their miraculous encyclopedia over the years, so if this issue had something to do with miraculous lore, he’d be all over it.

“Okay, Al. Here’s what’s what.”

He went on to explain what Chloé had dealt with for a month and then what happened to him just before he left Stockholm finishing with what Master Fu had told them.

“So, for the last week, we’ve been trying to put together any information we could find on Desymaic and mentions of his experiments as well as look out for Miss Cargo Pants,” Alya snorted at Chloé’s nickname.  _ Classic Chloé to focus in on the crazy lady’s fashion choices _ . “But…” Marinette trailed off, giving her a pointed look.

“But your favorite investigative journalist has been MIA for two weeks, got it.” Alya nodded and Marinette stuck her tongue out at her. “Okay, send me the info you have, including the correct spelling of that philosopher’s name and any description you can make of the woman following you.”

“I can do one better. I had Chloé and Nino describe her, so I made a sketch. Sending them now.”

Alya opened her email, looking over some things, and adding to the notes she’d been taking while Nino was talking. Then she sat back.

“Balance,” she murmured to herself, putting something together. “You and Adrien haven’t seen her?”

“No,” Marinette responded, noting the look in her friend's eye. “I know, it’s strange. She found Chloé and Nino and tracked them. Chloé wasn’t even widely known, and somehow she found her in London. So if she is able to do that, why hasn’t she found us in Paris? The most obvious place.”

“She’s herding us,” Alya declared. “And it’s working. As soon as they could, Chloé and Nino ran back to Paris, and now all four of you are in the same place. And if what Fu said was right and this thing does want all the miraculous, maybe she targeted Chloé for the collective manipulation of the civilization miraculous?” Alya paused, working through her thought out loud. The civilization miraculous would be the most efficient way to manipulate them all at once, but Fu had said that the stone already possessed an approximation of all their powers, so that didn’t make sense... Why Chloé specifically? It had followed Nino, but it had terrorized Chloé… She looked up when it came to her, but one look at Marinette told her that her friend had already gotten there.

“Or,” Marinette finished for her. “It sees her as the weakest link. At least to the public, she’d never really seemed like a fully integrated member of the team.”

Alya snorted, finding it funny that anyone would ever look at Chloé and think she was  _ weak _ , but Marinette had a point. She seemed like the outsider in their group. Alya looked up at Marinette and Nino then. Nino looked surprised by their declarations, but Marinette just looked resigned. 

“But you suspected all that. Targeting Chloé, the herding....” Nino looked over at Marinette in shock. “That’s why your texts have been so cryptic,” Alya continued.

“I wasn’t sure,” Marinette responded. “I wanted to talk to you first, but I didn’t want to alarm anyone, especially Chloé, or make you come running back before you confirmed  my suspicions.” She sighed and looked wryly at her best friend. “Which, of course, you just did.”

Alya smirked at her best friend. She may be an art major, by Marinette’s mind could rival hers in working out a conspiracy. They’d already managed to thwart one as it was. Despite being so different in most things, their minds could be uncannily in sync sometimes.

“What was your plan then?” Alya asked, but already knowing the answer and Marinette just smiled.

“You already said it.”

“Balance.” Alya nodded, noting how Nino’s head whipped back and forth between the two girls and she almost felt guilty. Nino was crazy perceptive, but best friends had their own secret language, and even after all these years, he still couldn’t quite keep up with Marinette and Alya’s.

“Balance,”  Marinette confirmed. “I think it needs us all together for whatever it is planning, but some things Fu has said makes me also think we need all of us together to destroy it.”

“Well,” Alya sighed, sitting back in her seat. “Looks like I’m coming home for Christmas after all.”

Marinette didn’t even try to contain her squeal of joy, and despite the circumstances, Alya was happy to be seeing them soon too. 


	8. Chapter 7

Adrien woke to find Marinette sprawled out next to him, still very much in a deep sleep. He walked out from behind the bookshelf to find Nino in a similar state. Noting that Marinette’s desk light was still on, her went to turn it off and felt that her computer was still warm. She must have just gone to sleep. He shook his head. He hadn’t been allowed to see her designs yet, but from the amount of work she was putting into them combined with her natural talent, he could only imagine the masterpieces she was creating. 

He looked over to where the dress form still stood in the corner, naked unless Marinette brought a piece home to work out a few remaining minute details. The apartment looked cleaner but felt...barren without it. She’d moved most of her materials to the studio a few days before, having finished the majority of her pieces and needing to bring them in for critique, so she must have been working on the accompanying paper last night.  She had to write something describing her inspiration and he remembered her grumbling about the last minute addition a few days ago.  Her teacher decided that she also wanted a detailed report of their creative process, claiming that those who had been chosen for the show would also be featured in the design school magazine with a short spread. Adrien shook his head, understanding Marinette’s frustration at the seeming busy-work, and tried not to gloat. He’d handed in his last paper a few days ago and was officially done for the semester.

With this new freedom, he made himself coffee and just sat in silence, taking comfort in the ambient noises of the Parisian morning, his best friend snoring lightly on the couch, and his hopefully soon-to-be  fiancé rustling every so often in their bed. 

A faint knock sounded at the door and he looked over at the clock on the wall, ready to be annoyed at the early-morning interruption but noticed it was already 9. He shuffled over, grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over his head as he opened the door. 

“Dad?” He paused mid-action, only one arm through the shirt, and looked at his father in confusion.

“Finish putting on your shirt, son. I’m not as impressed as Marinette by your abdominals.” His father walked by him, giving Adrien a bemused smirk and going to the kitchen to grab himself a cup of coffee. He paused a moment to note Nino on the couch, but didn’t say anything. 

“Um, Dad, not that it isn’t great to see you, but what…” He trailed off, realizing something and his father just gave him a straight-faced expression. “Shit, right. The appointment!” He face-palmed, annoyed that in the events of the last few weeks he’d completely forgotten about the appointment his father had managed to get with Monsieur Estrada, a famous jewelry designer and a dear friend of his father's from Spain. He turned when a yawn sounded from the corner where their bed was and his father looked back at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I thought you said that she’d be at the studio. Isn’t her collection presentation in two days?” Gabriel looked at his son, shocked that he’d forgotten the appointment when a few weeks ago he’d been so excited they managed to catch Paulo while he was in town.

“She would have been but,” Adrien groaned softly, running a hand over his face and realizing that he’d completely neglected to keep his parents, both technically still miraculous holders, in the loop about what had been going on. “Things...things have come up. I think she had an epiphany a few weeks ago, anyway. She spent three nights straight working on the collection before finally moving it all over to the school studio.” He vaguely waved to the surprisingly clean corner of their apartment, bereft of any of Marinette’s pieces. “Shit, okay, let me just get dressed.”

Gabriel watched his son shuffle around the bookshelf and heard Marinette sleepily mutter to him.  _ Things have come up _ , his son had said and Gabriel’s eyes turned to Nino on the couch. 

“Gabriel,” Marinette rounded the bookshelf and smiled at him, pausing briefly to cover her yawn before joining him in the kitchen. “Have you eaten? Can I make you some breakfast?”

She shuffled around him, grabbing herself a glass of water and he hid a smile behind his cup of coffee as he leaned against the doorway. Marinette was very much a baker’s daughter sometimes, always trying to feed everyone.

“No, my dear. I’ve just come to grab Adrien. We have an appointment this morning.” She took a sip of water, still trying to process his words in her half-asleep mind just as Adrien appeared in the doorway, fully dressed and shrugging on his coat.

“Appointment?” She looked at Adrien.

“Umm...yeah. I..um..forgot..” Gabriel had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes at his son’s awful attempt to lie.

“Yes, I’m having something made for Adela. A designer friend of mine is in for the weekend from Madrid, and Adrien is helping me.” Gabriel covered effortlessly.

“Oh, tell Paulo hello for me,” Marinette muttered, and Gabriel smiled at her quick mind despite her apparent exhaustion. Gabriel had introduced the two a few years ago at a small family function, and he knew Adrien and Marinette had stopped by to visit the man on a short weekend trip they took to Madrid last year. He was the perfect person to help with Marinette’s ring.

She yawned again and set down her now empty glass of water. Kissing Adrien briefly, she waved to Gabriel. “I’m going back to bed. Have fun.” She turned to walk out the kitchen and almost bumped into Chloé who was just walking into the apartment. “Or, maybe not.” Marinette muttered, waving for Chloé to follow her.

“I saw the text from Alya. When will she be here?”

Gabriel perked up at their conversation, and saw the confused look on his son’s face.

“Alya?” Adrien asked, following Marinette too.

“Yeah, Nino and I talked to her late last night. Or, this morning?” Marinette rubbed her eyes. “Like, four hours ago. Damn it, I just want  _ sleep _ .” She yawned, but continued. “She’s coming in a few days. She confirmed my suspicions.” Marinette looked pointedly at Adrien, and he muttered a curse.

Chloé began to interrogate Marinette further, but one glance his watch and Gabriel knew he needed to herd Adrien out of there. He looked around the room once more. Something was clearly up with the miraculous. While he was technically a retired holder, he had every intention of being kept in the loop.

“Adrien, we have to go. You can fill me in while we walk.”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Marinette looked at him then. “I’m sorry. We were going to tell you and Adela, we just hadn’t figured out what was going on yet. We only say Fu the other day…” She trailed off, and he saw the stress evident on her face.

“No worries, my dear. You all can fill me in later on whatever Adrien forgets.”

“Yeah, c’mon Papa. You’re not going to believe this  _ cat _ -tastrophe”

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Chloé finally left Marinette and Adrien’s apartment, after getting a brief update on what Alya had said. She was annoyed she missed the call herself for informational purposes, but also because she wanted to see Alya.

Their relationship was something Chloé had been thinking a lot about recently. Finally, when she felt she and Alya had become close and knocked down the last wall between them, they both went to university. Now, they barely talked unless it was in the company of others or a brief text message once in awhile. It felt friendly, but not a deep connection. While Chloé and Marinette seemed to come to an understanding almost immediately and their friendship had grown from the start, Chloé never got there with Alya. She knew Alya cared for her, and they were close enough for a time, but once the situation with Germain was resolved and things returned to relative normalcy, Chloé felt Alya pull away again. Without the necessitated closeness of fighting a common enemy, Alya and Chloé were forced to face reality, and the reality was that while Marinette had forgiven Chloé for their past, Alya had not. She was fiercely protective of her best friend, and Alya had the kind of personality that forgave, but never forgot, especially if the transgression was against someone she loved and not just herself. 

Chloé had changed, though. Whether it was the influence of the miraculous or her own family drama that snapped her out of the general disdain for humans she’d favored during her young teenage years, she wasn’t certain. To be sure, Chloé still felt superior to most people, but she allowed herself that. She  _ was _ more intelligent than most people, so that just couldn’t be helped, but she had taken her first conversation with Marinette to heart. She wouldn’t change her ways and start being nice just to spare people’s feelings, but she started allowing select people to know her and decided to use her perceptive nature for a more productive cause: justice and her law career. Besides, she found it unnerved people much more to just remain silent, letting your eyes tell them you saw  _ exactly _ who they really were, but not giving anything explicitly away with your words. 

Marinette had said once that she’d created a monster and that Chloé was much less dangerous when she was just an unusually keen bully. Chloé couldn’t disagree. During her years in the pre-law track at UCL, she’d had to use her new, more subtle skills more than a few times, to a tremendous result, and reminded herself to thank the budding designer for her influence on her current life path. Her school could be vicious at times, especially towards people like Chloé who came from privilege and who were assumed to have bought their way into the institution. Still, Chloé relished the fight, however cowardly and passive aggressive it could get. She’d made herself clear her first year, her unabashed honesty and easy perception of her classmate’s true nature palpable, and no one had bothered her since. She’d made a core group of acquaintances whom she trusted enough, and she continued to do well with her studies.

But none of them would ever know her like the four miraculous holders, mainly because she wouldn’t let them. There were less than a dozen people she trusted thoroughly in this world. One was currently in Germany and the rest were usually in Paris, at least when  _ Ninya _ wasn’t gallivanting off in their separate corners of the world.  So her relationship with Alya bothered Chloé, loathe as she was to admit that anyone else had a bearing on her own happiness. She loved Alya like family, and while she realized this distance between them was a product of both of their combined shortcomings--Chloé’s past actions and Alya’s unwillingness to let go of said past--Chloé was reluctant to go into another potentially dangerous situation without trying to move forward. Without a doubt, they would fall back into an easy rhythm on the team, they did trust each other, but it’s not the same as what she had with the others.

“If you furrow your brow anymore, it’s going to stay that way,” Pollen remarked from her clutch, pointing her nose in the air and somehow managing to look down at Chloé even though she rested against her hip.

“It’s Alya,” Chloé sighed, and Pollen’s expression softened. No one else really understood her kwami, but Chloé recognized herself in Pollen’s tough exterior, and knew the true depth of feeling that resided within her.

“Did something happen? I was still asleep.”

“No, it just started to bother me for some reason. We’ve been avoiding the block between us for years. I’ve always wanted to figure out a way to be close to her, like we were when we were defeating Germain, but I’ve never figured it out.”

“She’s always been a bit tougher to crack than most people,” Pollen nodded. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “But I thought you guys had become closer?” 

“We did, but it’s still not right. I know the main route of the issue is just the past, and I’ve apologized to Marinette. We’ve been good for years, but every time Alya starts to let me in, it’s like another door closes. I don’t want to go into this new situation like that. We all know a fight is ahead, and if what Marinette thinks is right, and our success all hangs on the miraculous being in perfect balance, it’s not smart of us to go into this with an existing issue.” Chloé finished and looked down at Pollen, who nodded her head but had her lips pursed and looked confused by Chloé’s sudden obsession with this topic.

“Just say it.”

“That’s a very logical answer, Chloé.” Pollen hesitated, “And I don’t really know where all of this is coming from, but if you’re going to have this conversation with Alya, let’s be honest. We both know what you just said was only a small part of the truth.”

“Alya’s a reporter. She responds well to the facts.”

“But she’s also your friend,” Pollen reminded softly. “And I guess you’ve never really apologized to her for how you were back in  lycée, to her and Marinette.”

“But…” Chloé trailed off, realizing her own stupidity. She  _ hadn’t _ ever apologized to Alya. She’d assumed since Marinette was her target, and things were repaired between them now, that it was fine, but she  _ knew _ how Alya felt about her friends. They were like an extension of herself. 

Chloé had always connected with Alya because they both had very analytical minds and they valued the truth above all else. Chloé understood that part of Alya, but what she forgot was that Alya had a family, too. She had siblings, two parents, and a vast network of friends from everywhere she’d lived. She knew how to love and be close to people in a way Chloé never did. For  Chloé, it had only ever been just her and her parents, and later Adrien too. Alya connected with people emotionally as well as intellectually; it was one of the reasons she was such an effective reporter. And Marinette was perhaps the person she connected to the most, meaning she’d have been just as affected by Chloé’s past actions.

“Shit, I’m an idiot.” Chloé face-palmed and got a bemused look from a couple walking past her on the street.

“I didn’t say it,” Pollen laughed from where she was hidden in her clutch again. “But an idiot with  _ great _ hair.”

Chloé laughed, but her mind was already elsewhere. She pulled out her phone and texted Alya, and then tucked her phone away again.

“Gahh.” she released an annoyed sigh. “I hate it when I’m wrong.”

Pollen laughed too, but the random conversation had given her an uneasy feeling she couldn’t quite place. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the first full edit, so I'm celebrating with two chapters in one day :)  
> This first section used to be much longer--the pun-opportunities for Marinette's name in Spanish are endless--but Mari_Poppins reminded me that they are french not spanish, so I controlled myself *le sigh*   
> In general, this whole chapter is a bit self-indulgent, with Alya's inner dialogue twinged with my nostalgia for when I lived in Madrid.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

By the time they reached Paulo’s Paris storefront, Adrien had filled his father in and Gabriel was cursing along with him. 

“ _ Moth _ -er of god. Catastrophe is an understatement,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.

“Did you just…?” Adrien broke off, looking at him in awe. His father just raised an eyebrow at him and smirked slightly.  “Marinette always said that Hawkmoth had worse puns than I did, but damn,  _ Papa _ -illon!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his smile. Then his face became serious again and he opened his mouth to ask about what they’d researched so far, but Adrien cut him off.

“We were planning to tell you everything, but Marinette and Chloé know more than I do. They’ve been researching while I’ve been scattered between finals and this,” he made a vague gesture towards the jewelry store. “Can we just forget about the impending doom for now? Let’s just have this normal appointment for a few hours.”

“Of course,” Gabriel turned towards the store, just as an exuberant Spaniard burst through the front doors, arms outstretched towards the Agreste men.

“Caballeros!” He exclaimed formally, but with a jaunty hop in his step and mischievous look in his eye. “Finally, you come see me.  _ Finally _ , you decide to make our lovely  _ Mari _ -posa tu mujer. Por fin!”

Adrien gave his father a conspiratorial look at Paulo calling  _ Marinette _ the butterfly in the family. 

“I can’t agree more, Paulo.” Gabriel clapped him on the back and with a wink to his son, they followed the man into the shop. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

A few days later, Alya was collecting her newly filled notebook and additional research to stuff in her already packed suitcase. Maybe it was a good thing she was stopping home in between her travels. Paris wasn’t exactly a logical midpoint between Jordan and Croatia, but she really needed to dump some stuff at home. She’d traveled light, only bringing one large suitcase to last her four months, but souvenirs and art quickly piled up in her apartment. Between the CD’s from the street performers for Nino, the handmade jewelry for Chloé, the fabrics for Marinette, different spices for her Maman and the books she hoped she’d have enough self-control to split with Adrien, her suitcase was a bit overloaded. 

She stuffed the last of the papers into her backpack and surveyed the apartment one last time. She’d said goodbye to her friends and neighbors earlier in the day, and only had about an hour before she needed to be at the airport, but she was still reluctant to leave. Who knew if she’d ever return here. As anxious as she was to see her friends and to puzzle out this new mystery, she couldn’t deny that a piece of her would stay here until she was ever able to come back for it. She’d lived a lot of places before her family finally settled in Paris, and it was always the same. Bit and pieces of her scattered across the globe, and while it wasn’t always a comfortable feeling, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The smell of one of her favorite local shops chose that moment to waft through her open window, and Alya closed her eyes in ecstasy. Checking her watch, she decided she could spare 15 minutes. Leaving her bags by the door, she ventured out into the Jordanian sun for one last time on the hunt for manakish.

When she returned, delightfully stuffed with fragrant dough and holding another round in her hand, Alya froze at her doorway. 

“Shit! Trixx, did we lock the door?” Trixx, who had been munching on the arabic pizza looked up, perplexed as well.

“We definitely  _ closed _ the door,” she said hesitantly, looking at the ajar entrance. 

Clutching her necklace in one hand, Alya nudged the door further open with her foot and began to enter.

“Alya!”

“ _ Merde! _ ” Alya spun, hand over her heart as Trixx dashed out of sight, to see her neighbor standing right behind her. “Aquilah! You scared the crap out of me.”

The young Jordanian woman laughed at the Parisian’s dramatics.

“I thought you’d be long gone by now. Don’t miss your flight! On second thought, then we’d get to keep you for another day, which is fine by me.”

“No,” Alya laughed at her friend, feeling a little less uneasy. “I just smelled Adama’s manakish, and I couldn’t control myself.”

“Mmmmm, don’t tempt me.” Aquilah winked at her and turned to go, but then looked back at Alya, something dawning on her face. “Oh, I think you missed one of your friends coming to say goodbye.” Alya’s heart stopped again as she looked back to the woman.

“Someone was here?” She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Yeah, maybe another student in your program? Older than you, but definitely foreign.” She crinkled her nose in distaste. While she’d adopted Alya as a honorary Jordanian, Aquilah had a general disdain for foreigners who she classified as ‘tourists’. Alya used to laugh at the sentiment; it was something she felt in Paris often, but then again she wasn’t technically a native Parisian either, she just knew how to blend in. 

“How do you know?” Alya questioned further, and Aquilah laughed in her typical earthy rumble. 

“Oh, darling, those  _ pants _ . Thank god you dress like a person and not like those foreign journalists who think they’re stepping off a safari in the 1940s. Anyway, I have to go, but  _ adieu ma cherie _ ,” she smiled, using some French Alya had been teaching her. “I expect many postcards from Croatia.”

“Bye, Aquilah. Really, thanks for everything, again.” Alya smiled warmly at the woman who blew her a kiss before disappearing through her front door.

Turning back around, all the warmth fled from Alya’s body as she realized her fears had been confirmed.  _ At least whoever it was is gone _ , Alya thought as she strode more confidently through the front door to see the contents of her bags strewn across the floor. She groaned.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She kneeled down and started to gather her things back up, trying to take inventory to see if anything was missing, but giving up when she noticed the lateness of the hour. Thankfully there was no graffiti on the wall like what happened to Chloé, or Alya would have had to choose been missing her flight or loosing her security deposit.

Everything packed, she went down to call a cab, but Trixx stopped her in the hallway and handed her a note.

“It was in  _ my _ pocket,” Alya noted the angry twitch of her kwami’s ears and had to suppress a smile at her annoyance. No one invaded Trixx’s den. Then she looked at the note and had to use all her self-control not to crumpled it up and stomp on it in anger. She tucked it into her backpack--not in Trixx’s pocket this time--and continued outside into the late afternoon heat. Rarely did she let her anger get the better of her, but the threat hadn’t been aimed at her this time. She raised her hand and flagged down a nearby taxi.

“This bitch has got to go.” Alya started swearing under her breath, a dangerous glint in her eyes. She climbed into the taxi, gripping the seat forcefully. Tomorrow she’d be in Paris, and cargo pants would rue the day she’d threatened one of  _ her  _ people.


	10. Chapter 9

Alya walked through the CDG listening to Chloé’s voicemail another time. Chloé sounded...off...and oddly emotional. She knew they didn’t have the closest relationship, but they’d been working on it, and now suddenly Chloé sounded...insecure? Was that even possible? Something was off with the miraculous holders in general, and Alya was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

She’d gotten in a few hours earlier than predicted because she got bumped to an earlier flight and Alya was hoping to surprise everyone at Marinette’s student showcase tonight. She hadn’t told them yet about her last visitor in Jordan. Truth be told, she was still unsettled by it, but her anger had subsided enough for other emotions to seep in. 

_ Just what were they getting themselves into?  _

This threat felt ten times more sinister than Germain had. Were they somehow supposed to be older and wiser and able to handle it? She barely managed to keep herself fed on a regular schedule, let alone save Paris from some supernatural demon. 

She was pulling at her curls anxiously when someone grabbed her wrist. Without thinking she spun and was about to use her momentum to flip her assailant when the hand left her arm and Alya caught a flash of golden hair.

“Chloé?” She tried to slow the tempo of her heart and focused on the  girl she hadn’t seen in months. Long gone was Chloé’s signature pony tail. Since university, she’d cut it and instead wore it in a sleek bob and dressed mainly in neutrals choosing expensive accessories to compliment her looks. She looked the same as Alya remembered her, but there was a wariness in her eyes that was new. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you took an earlier flight,” Chloé waved her hand dismissively, and Alya didn’t even bother asking how she’d tracked her without knowing her flight number. Chloé had a scary number of connections and a large network of informants. It really was a work of art, and the reporter in Alya was always impressed by how easily Chloé managed to get information. “But we need to talk.”

“Yeah, I got your message.” She looked at Chloé seriously, wondering what had gotten into her.

“Well, here’s the thing. I need to apologize. I’ve been thinking a lot recently, and I realized I never apologized to you for how I was in lycée to you and Marinette and…”

Chloé went on, but Alya had stopped listening, a surge of anger washing over her like a tsunami and tearing through all logic. It was like all her anger towards Chloé’s treatment--not of her, but of her best friend all those years ago--suddenly bubbled to the surface. As if it’d been festering in the depths of her subconscious for half a decade... _ Wait. _

Alya paused, and held her hand up to stop Chloé from talking. Her suspicion was confirmed when Chloé accepted the signal and shut up without so much as a nasty look. 

“Do you feel that?” It was an undercurrent buzzing subtly through their bodies. She saw Chloé’s face dawn in comprehension and realized just how out of sorts her friend must have been to not realize it before. Both her and Chloé’s miraculous were unique to the others. Adela and Gabriel might have realized it sooner if they had been targeted. 

Marinette, Adrien and Nino’s miraculous were much more physical, whilst Adela, Gabriel, Alya and Chloé’s had to do with mental manipulation. Volpina didn’t actually  _ make _ things appear, she made you  _ think _ you saw things there. Queen Bee did the opposite, manipulating your mind to make you see reason and not the lies before you. Despite those differences, both were keenly aware of how their miraculous felt. Adela, a few months after she had been rescued, took the two girls aside to make sure they were cognisant of the responsibility they held. They were entering people’s  _ minds _ , and if Hawkmoth had taught them anything, it was how easily that power could be manipulated and used for the wrong reasons. 

Both girls were very aware of their powers, just as they were both very aware that something frighteningly similar was being used on them at that moment.

“She’s here,” Chloé breathed, glancing around, her eyes narrowing into slits. The buzzing stopped.

“When did you first feel it?” Alya asked, urgent now. If Chloé couldn’t even recognized what was happening, then the others were in danger. They still didn’t know how to defeat whatever this was, but if it was trying to divide them, then they needed to be stronger than ever.

“Yesterday, when I texted you and then again this morning when I called. We need to go, now.” Chloé turned, without making sure Alya was following, and led her to a black car she had waiting. Alya got in without question, resigned to her friends’ luxury by now.

“Where are they?”

“They’re already at the university. We might be able to make it by the time the show ends.” Chloé looked over, worry evident in her eyes, and Alya grabbed her hand, squeezing in solidarity as they sped through the snow dusted streets.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

It was finally the night of the student showcase and Marinette was frazzled. 

She paced back and forth in front of her three dress forms wringing her hands. She wasn’t worried about the pieces. She actually loved all three. They’d come out exactly how she imagined, and her mini freak-out two weeks ago, while stressful to completely rework her collection, had been completely worth it. The pieces were soft and comforting, but strong. Adrien hadn’t seen them yet, but she wondered how he’d react when she told him her true inspiration was imagining Chat Noir in a sherlock-holmes-esque deer cap. She giggled to herself then, remembering Plagg chortling along with her when she had drawn a cartoon of that very image and stuck it up on her inspiration board. It was covered by a fabric swatch, but she and Plagg would look at it every once in awhile for a laugh. Tikki would pretend to look on disapprovingly, but the little red kwami couldn’t completely hide her amusement either. Marinette would have to make him a hat like that for Christmas. No, two. One for Adrien and one for Chat with little ear holes.

She was smiling at that thought, much more relaxed now, when her advisor came it. 

“My, my,” Madame Bernard remarked, watching Marinette with a curious smile. “I must say, this is the largest show you’ve been in, and this is the calmest I’ve ever seen you.” She looked over at Marinette’s work. “But then, you do have reason to be proud, my dear. Although, I would watch out for some angry fourth years after you steal their thunder. Good idea with the personal introduction, by the way. I’m sure you’re small design website will have many new visitors after tonight.” 

With that comment, the woman touched on the true source of Marinette’s nerves. She’d self-promoted in her short written statement about the inspiration for her collection and was worried about it looking tacky, but she went for it anyway. If her little side business was going to bring in enough to be able to support her through next year, she really needed to step up the sales. She couldn’t keep relying on her parents to help pay for her apartment forever. 

Madame Bernard walked over and was rubbing the cape of her final piece through her fingers, the smooth leather contrasting nicely with the softened tweed lining. 

“I don’t know what you treated this with, but this wool feels like cashmere. I may have to steal this after the show.” Madame Bernard continued to look at the garment longingly and Marinette laughed, pleased by the woman’s appraisal of her work.

“You’ll have to fight my...my boyfriend's mom for it. She’s had her eye on it since she got me the fabric.” Marinette stumbled over what to call Adela. A part of her almost said  _ mother-in-law _ , which displayed the closeness she felt to Adrien’s family, despite the cold sounding term. 

_ Where did that come from? _ Marinette though, mentally trying to shake it out of her mind and focus on the task at hand. Besides, she and Adrien had a lot of school left, and they had just moved in together, now was not the time for proposals. They had this strange philosopher’s stone problem looming on the horizon, and she was only 21! She’d been in love with him for six years, but nothing was for sure…

Suddenly, there was a persistent feeling in the back of her mind that latched onto all of her past insecurities. She thought she’d gotten over this finally last year, but apparently it liked to pop up and rear its ugly head in moments when she really didn’t have time for it. Like, for instance,  a few hours before the most important showcase she’d ever been in. But once it got going, she felt powerless to stop the course of her thoughts.

_ Was Adrien staying with her out of comfort?  _ He’d always gone out of his way to be his over-the-top cheesy self, but sometimes, usually after they went to a public event with his father, the tabloids would run a story about the two of them and maybe they were right. Not about her being a gold-digger or using Adrien for his fashion connections of course, but she couldn’t help but listen when they questioned why this famous model was dating... _ her. He’s amazing, he could definitely do better, _ they would write, and looking at her Kitty, she honestly couldn’t figure out what she’d done to deserve him. 

She knew he loved her, and she tried to be confident in that. Whenever it was just the two of them, she was. Adrien had always joked that as soon as they started going out in lycée, it was like they had a role reversal and suddenly  _ he  _ became the stuttering fool. Still, she didn’t ever want to hold him back, and maybe she should have taken last year’s lackluster proposal to move in together more seriously than she did... They’d only ever dated each other, and maybe if they weren’t Ladybug and Chat Noir he wouldn’t have even been interested…

“Marinette? Did you hear me?” She looked up then at Madame Bernard, who had a concerned look on her face. “Your models should be here in about five minutes. What just happened? It’s like you transformed into a different person.”

Marinette released a joyless laugh at the irony of that statement and tried to compose her face. 

“Sorry, just lost in my own world for a second. Yes, models. Sounds good. Thanks.” She tried to smile, but knew it must not look too convincing. Regardless, Madame Bernard just put a hand on her shoulder for a moment before walking out to check on the other students. Marinette released a sigh and tried to shake off the melancholy feeling. She walked over and started to fiddle with one of her garments, hoping to distract herself a bit from her recent thoughts. She was being ridiculous, even her own anxiety-ridden brain could recognize that. She thought she’d gotten over these insecurities a long time ago. After all, there was no one she trusted more than her chaton with her heart.  _ So, what was going on? _

 

Once the woman left the room, Tikki peeked out of her hiding place and looked over at Marinette with her eyes narrowed. Something felt...off, and one look at her charge confirmed that something was up with the girl. It was more than that, though. Tikki had felt a...disturbance almost, but she wasn’t sure if it was just her paranoia over the current situation or something real. Either way, it would have to wait for later. She floated over to Marinette.

“Marinette?” She squeaked and Marinette looked around quickly to make sure they were alone.

“Sorry, Tikki.” She shook her head as if to dislodge some lingering thoughts. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was just having some weird thoughts,” she sighed. “Maybe it’s just the stress getting to me.”

Tikki hummed, but didn’t say anything else. She needed to talk to Plagg later, because something was most definitely going on.

“Marinette!” A man’s voice called, and Tikki quickly zoomed inside Marinette’s leather jacket.

“Nath!” Marinette replied, leaning over to hug her old friend who was followed into the room by his boyfriend Albert, the other third year in her program that had been chosen for the show. Albert smiled at the two of them as he unzipped his own creations.

“So, Mar, do I  _ finally _ get to meet your famous beau tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed. It had been a joke between her and Albert about how their schedules  _ refused _ to line up. Most of her design friends had met Adrien years previously, but Albert had been a transfer this semester and a late, but definitely worthy, addition to the showcase. Marinette had become attached to him quickly and kept saying how they should all meet up one night, but things had been so crazy, especially this last month. She didn’t even think she’d remembered to tell Adrien that Albert was in the showcase too.

“Yes, I will make sure of it tonight.” She finally answered him and was rewarded with a gleam of his white teeth against midnight skin.  She was relieved to find that whatever dark thoughts she’d been having about her and Adrien’s relationship had fled as soon as Albert walked into the room. She rolled her shoulders, trying to dislodge the remaining discomfort of where her mind had travelled to and focused on her two friends.

“Good. I can’t subsist  _ solely _ on Nath’s description of your piece of eye-candy,” he winked at her and rolled his eyes when Nathaniel pretended to be outraged. She laughed at the two, feeling lighter as the models walked in and they started to prepare for the runway.


	11. Chapter 10

Adrien sat in the front row next to Nino, both of their jackets spread out on the four seats surrounding them to save spots for the Dupain-Chengs and his parents. His leg bounced nervously, and Nino nudged him for the hundredth time, trying to glare at him, but failing to contain his amused expression. They had already gotten there an hour ahead of when the show was to start; the small studio where it was being staged completely empty except for them and frazzled first years running around to help the fourth-years with last minute errands. 

“Dude, you need to chill. You’re going to freak her out if she sees you like this.” Nino said the words seriously, but Adrien could still detect the hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.  _ Thanks Nino, laugh at my discomfort, _ but Adrien tried to take a few calming breaths regardless, because Nino was right. He was wigging, and he had been since he’d gotten back from Paulo’s jewellry store that morning. The Spaniard, more enthusiastic over this design than Adrien or Gabriel had ever seen him, had finished Marinette’s ring in a record amount of time, and it was stunning. Set in an art deco arrangement, a geometric diamond winked out from the center framed by the two horizontal jade baguettes that gleamed like a calm sea at twilight. Around the focal piece stones, smaller diamond chips were interspersed in the hand-engraving: a floral design that subtly hid a ladybug and pair of cat ears peeking out from the lush foliage. He didn’t know how his father managed to convince Paulo on that last design element, but it took his breath away. Now, all there was to do was hope it did the same for Marinette. He’d picked up the ring a few hours ago after Paulo insisted that Adrien come get it from him personally before his flight back to Madrid that night.

So now Adrien sat, a small polished wood box burning a hole in his brain, trying to keep it together and failing miserably. Thankfully, he’d had time to hide it at home before coming here, otherwise he didn’t even want to imagine the state he’d be in. 

He finally told Nino about the ring that afternoon. Adrien only saw Marinette for a few moments after he got the ring and before she left to set up for the show, but in that small time frame, he’d been rendered physically incapable of forming coherent sentences to her. It was ridiculous, but seeing Nino’s boisterous laughter turn into a slack-jawed stare at Adrien’s admission made it worth it. Nino’s stunned expression soon turned to one of elation as he rushed Adrien, swallowing him in the biggest hug as the two proceeded to squeal in excitement, bouncing on their toes like little boys. 

“You’re going to make such beautiful babies,” his best friend had to hold back his tears of happiness at the news. “I’m gonna throw you the most kick-ass bachelor party! HOT DAMN!” Nino started to jump, punch the air and make beat-boxing noises and Adrien just laughed, incredibly touched by his friend’s heartfelt response and marveling not for the first time at how he ever managed to find such amazing friends. 

Telling Nino had been such a relief. Adrien never had been great at lying to the people he loved, and especially since Nino had been living on their couch for the last few weeks, keeping this secret from everyone had been a  _ struggle _ . Unfortunately, announcing his intentions to someone other than his father also had another effect. Now more than ever he just wanted to do it. He wanted to marry Marinette as soon as possible. He wanted a ring on his finger that matched hers and he wanted to scream to the word that he was  _ her _ kitty and she was  _ his _ lady.  

_ I need to see her _ , the thought rang a little too clearly through his head, but he didn’t question it. Suddenly he was on his feet and walking towards the emergency exit that led to the fire escape.

“Save my seat,” he called back to Nino, and his friend  gave him an eyebrow quirk and a smirk, but just nodded his head, guessing correctly his destination. Adrien discreetly slipped out the door, transformed and vaulted onto the roof to reach the other side where the window to Marinette’s prep room was located. He gave his signature Chat-grin remembering the many late nights that Chat Noir had surprised his princess by appearing the this very studio window before finals came around and Marinette had banned him for the sake of her academic career.

_ “For my own sanity and the fleeting hope that one of us will get something done,”  _ she’d smirked, tapping his nose lightly as she bid him farewell on the window sill a few weeks ago. He smiled again remembering that it had lasted all of three nights before Marinette relocated her collection to their apartment, claiming she worked better with his  _ distractions _ .

Using his baton, he lowered carefully to the decorative ledge outside the window and then froze, realizing she was not alone in the room. Quickly, he shuffled out of the line of sight from the window, but used his baton to periscope over and see what was happening. Marinette’s head whipped to look out the window, as if sensing his presence and he could just barely hear her voice muffled through the wall between them.

“Sorry, I could have sworn I heard something,” she shrugged and looked back to the large man next to her before turning and rummaging through the shelf. She started to reach for something when a low rumble sounded from the other side of the room as the man spoke. Chat could hear her responding laugh crisp as a bell as it turned into a squeal when the muscular man wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up to grab whatever it was she needed. Instead of putting her down, Marinette dropped into his arms bridal style and he spun her around the room.

“Put me down, you big oaf,” Marinette cried but they were both laughing joyously and Chat felt his heart rip open. A feral growl tore from his throat, and Marinette’s head whipped to the window again, but she didn’t dislodge herself from the man’s arms.

Finally the bulking excuse for a human’s attention was called to the doorway and he set Marinette down, giving her a jaunty bow which she laughed at half-heartedly and he left the room. Marinette turned and went immediately to the window, sticking her head out and looking around before she spotted him.

“Chat!” she exclaimed, seemingly pleased to see him, as if she weren’t just cavorting with another man. “I thought I said no more  _ distracting _ visits.” She flicked his bell flirtily before pulling him into the room and going to close the door.

“Apologies,” he responded, hating the accusatory sound of his own voice but being unable to quite control his own emotions in this moment. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your...your… whatever the hell that was.” He finished, unable to staunch the feeling of betrayal coursing through his veins. She looked at him strangely, and then her face broke out in a smile.

“What, Albert?” She laughed. “Oh, Kitty, Albert is just--”

“So he has a name.” Chat started to pace angrily in the room, and the smile fell from Marinette’s face.

“Oh course he has a name. Chat, what’s going on?”

“I could ask you the same thing! I come in here to surprise  _ my girlfriend _ , the woman who  _ supposedly _ is the love of my life, and I find you...you…” he gestured widely towards the shelves in the corner.

“You found Albert helping me reach the black thread?” She held up the spool in her hands, her face vacillating between confusion, sadness, and amusement at his sudden outburst.

“Don’t act all innocent,  _ Marinette _ .” He said her name and she flinched at the unusual venom laced in his tone, all previous emotion fleeing from her face and being replaced with anger; Marinette’s particular form of anger reserved only for rare occasions that burned white hot. It wasn’t a fiery display, it was an ice bath that chilled you to the bone but still inexplicably managed to leave you burnt to a crisp before you even knew what was happening. 

“I’m not acting. And you know what else I’m not?” She paused, placing a hand on her hip  but didn’t wait for his response. “I’m not having this conversation. Not right now, and not with _Chat Noir_. If Adrien would like to appear and start acting like my boyfriend and not some possessive psycho, then we can talk. Otherwise? I’m kinda busy. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, chaton,” she opened her arms wide and gestured around the room. “But this is _kinda_ the biggest night of my design career so far, and as much as I love you, I’m not going to put up with sudden baseless accusations and... _bizarre_ jealousies,” her eyes still blazed but she shook her head sadly. “ I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

A loud crash from outside captured both of their attention and Chat instinctively moved to stand in front of Marinette. 

When he turned back, he suddenly felt like a fool. Whether it was the brief distraction or Marinette’s steely words, he didn’t know, but his senses had been restored and he realized what a complete and utter  _ ass _ he was.

“Bugaboo,” he started, taking a step towards her, but Marinette took a step back, pain flashing in her eyes. His heart was torn again, but for a very different reason. He released his transformation and tried again.

“Mari?” he asked, motionless, and she didn’t respond. 

_ What have I done? _


	12. Chapter 11

Marinette watched as Chat released his transformation, wrapping her arms around herself as Adrien came to stand in front of her. Just as she’d managed to brush off the unnerving thoughts that plagued her earlier, Chat arrived, accusing her of god-knows-what and it made those twisted thoughts seem not so far-fetched. 

“Mari,” Adrien, stood motionless, and she could visibly see him fighting against his instinct to hold her as the tears started to overflow from her eyes. She looked at him, noting the sinister anger had vanished from his eyes and they were once again those of the man she loved. 

“Mari, I’m so so so  _ so _ sorry. I don’t know--” his voice broke as his own tears threatened to fall. “I don’t know what came over me. I just came to see you, and then suddenly it was like there was a voice in my head that wasn’t my voice, but was my voice...and I couldn’t...and I’m not making excuses, I’m so sorry--” he broke off, not looking at her now, his fists clenched in agitation at his side. She froze.

_ Wasn’t my voice, but was my voice... _ An icy hand crept up her back, and she shuddered, his explanation perfectly describing what she had been unable to put into words earlier. Like an evil version of herself was whispering in her ear all the things she feared most. 

“Kitty?” Her voice shook, and she hated it. She wanted to be strong, tell him it was alright, tell him she  _ knew _ that it wasn’t him. Others may have done so, but Adrien himself had  _ never _ given her any reason to doubt his love for her. In that moment, though, she was terrified. In an instant his eyes snapped to hers, seeing the obvious permission in them and she was suddenly being cradled in his arms. She clutched his shirt front desperately. 

“What’s going on?” She managed to gasp between the tremors running through her body. His hands framed her face and his forehead touched hers.

“Mari, I’m so sorry. I have no idea. I will apologize to you for the rest of our lives--” she kissed him softly then, quickly cutting off his words.

“Kitty, I know. Something’s going on. Earlier, I...I thought...I mean, it was like you said,” She sighed, tucking her head under his chin as he arms moved to encircle her again. “It was as if I was 15-years-old again, and every insecurity I ever had about us was being forced to the front of my brain. Every online troll and paparazzi comment suddenly felt like the truth.” She broke off as he held her impossibly tighter. Adrien had always been fiercely protective of her when it came to the media. The Agrestes weren’t the most famous family in Paris, but they were definitely up there, and the public interest in them only doubled after Adela’s rescue-- consequentially the same time Adrien and Marinette became a couple. The scrutiny of her had decreased a bit over the years, but Adrien’s lingering fangirls could still be vicious. 

“Bugaboo--”

“Plagg!” Tikki appeared over Marinette’s shoulder, cutting off whatever new string of apologies were going to spill from Adrien’s lips. “Plagg.” Tikki repeated more forcefully and Adrien and Marinette broke apart a bit, watching Plagg float over from behind Adrien. 

“Yes, dear?” Plagg asked, in a sickeningly sweet tone, which Tikki ignored. 

“Did you feel it?” Plagg’s face dropped its mocking look at these words, and his ears flattened against his head as he floated closer to Adrien in a protective position. He seemed to realize something and simply nodded. Tikki floated over to sit on Marinette’s shoulder.

“It felt like it was with Akaterine.” Tikki’s eyes took on a forlorn distance and Marinette tilted her head, touching the kwami’s forehead with her cheek in comfort. 

“Phaedrus, too,” Plagg muttered, shaking his head angrily, but Marinette could see the pain, and fear, in his eyes too. “It’s really back isn’t it?” He looked at Tikki, and the red kwami did nothing to correct him.

Marinette shivered involuntarily, feeling as if the temperature of the room had suddenly plummeted and Adrien held her a bit closer. 

“What are you talking about? What do you know?” Adrien’s voice came out harsher and more frantic than he’d intended, but Tikki merely turned her sad eyes to his.

“It’s the Philosopher’s stone. We’re sure of it. I haven’t felt such malevolence since...well, for centuries.” Tikki finished, unwilling to say her old charge’s name again and bring back the excruciating memories of what came after. “I didn’t want to believe Master Fu the other day. It just seemed  _ impossible _ . If you knew the lengths they went to hide it. To  _ destroy _ it…”

“Tikki--” Marinette began, reaching for her old friend, but was interrupted by a large bang as the door to the studio burst open and Tikki and Plagg rushed to hide themselves. 

“Break it up, lovebirds! The show is about to begin!” Albert’s lively baritone burst through the doorway and filled the space like a calming breeze, chasing away the chill of the occult they had just been discussing. He had horrible timing, but Marinette was incredibly grateful for his joyous presence shaking her from the fearful places her mind was going and the implications of the evident fear in Tikki’s eyes. It readjusted her perspective, his exuberance contrasting with the somber tone in the room but reminding her that the world went on, and they could handle this. She looked at her partner and her determination solidified. He could handle anything life threw at him, they’d both proven that, but he deserved something good, and Marinette resolved then and there to destroy this stone because  _ god damn it! _ they deserved to be  _ happy _ .  _ He _ deserved to be happy. 

“And this debonair gentleman must be the  _ famous _ Adrien.” Albert pulled her from her thoughts as he sized Adrien up and then smirked at Marinette. “Well done, cherie.” With a wink he turned and ushered the models back in from hair and makeup and started to dress his three.

Marinette untangled herself from Adrien, and glanced up at his face which had now turned an unnaturally dark shade of red.

“I’m such an idiot,” he looked after Albert, and Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression.

“A possessed idiot at the time, but yes. I’ll let it slide this once though, because you’re  _ my _ idiot.” She reached up and kissed his nose, relieved to see the tension that had paralyzed his body leaving his shoulders. Still, he was reluctant to let her go.

“Mon chaton, it’ll be alright. There’s nothing we can do right now, but at least we know.”

“I love you,” he looked down and reminded her, visibly shaken by the night’s turn of events.

“I know,” she responded,  placing a chaste kiss to his lips and squeezing his hand once more. He brought it to his lips and kissed her palm before leaving the room. She immediately clutched her fist to her chest, taking a deep breath and racking her mind for any lingering doubts she had and thankfully coming up empty. Whatever it was, the voice was gone for now. 

She walked over to grab her three pieces and started to dress her models.

The show must go on.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

On the ground in the alleyway of the building, Josephine was huddled in a corner, her eyes flickering between their natural warm brown and the unearthly kaleidoscope of her possession. Her leg was broken, of that much she was sure. She knew that it would be mended instantly, all she had to do was give in, but she couldn’t. It had been months since her mind was her own, but she’d finally managed a small act of rebellion by throwing herself off the fire escape, the stone’s control of her slipping infinitesimally when the brunette girl fought back against its influence. 

Now here she sat, the snow starting to collect around her as her mind was clouded by the pain spiraling up aggressively from her abnormally twisted leg, but her concentration was elsewhere. In her hand was the cursed stone, smoke curling with a sickening smell from the flesh of her palm as she threw her will into releasing it.

But it was too strong. Tears streamed down her face as she felt her will weakening, trapping her back within the prison of her body. Her eyes shuttered closed for a moment, and then reopened.

They sparkled a million colors of the galaxy.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I couldn't help myself, I love some Gabe POV :)

Gabriel sat mesmerized as Marinette’s designs came down the makeshift runway the department had set up. He watched them, strong and dark yet still feminine and soft and was amazed by how much her designs had evolved in the few short weeks since he’d seen the original sketches. He was amazed by how much she’d grown in the few short  _ years _ he’d known her. These were her formative years, but most designers took a decade or more to even start showing the amount of skill Marinette had. 

Adrien always joked that he finally got the protege he’d always wanted, and knowing his son’s statement come from a place of love, Gabriel couldn’t disagree. Marinette had started coming to him for advice shortly after Adela was rescued, when she started applying to design programs. She’d referred to him as her mentor before, although Gabriel would say Marinette had more talent than he’d ever possessed in his little finger. It was an honor to watch her become the designer she was today, and now the world would get to see it too. This school event was featured in local fashion blogs every year, and seeing the caliber of just the two third-year students, Gabriel wouldn’t be surprised if a print magazine featured them too. 

He looked over at his son then to see the boy’s face shining. Gabriel had been worried. When Adrien emerged from the back, he and Adela had been seated for a while already. Far from the exuberance his son usually possessed after spending time with his soon-to-be  fiancé, his face was somber. Adrien met his father’s eyes and Gabriel stood and started walking to him, but just then the Dupain-Chengs had arrived. Adrien carefully composed his face, giving his father a small smile and walked over to greet his soon-to-be in-laws. Tom enveloped him in a hug and Sabine leaned over to kiss Adrien’s cheek. When Adrien wasn’t looking, Sabine looked over to Adela, the two mothers exchanging a brief worried glance before looking at Gabriel. Gabriel couldn’t help but smile. His son may be a great model, but he had a horrible poker face.

Now, in the dim lights of the show, Gabriel glanced around again at the parents and Nino too, immensely proud of the family his son had made. He looked back at Adrien, relieved to see the melancholy far from his eyes as he watched the last of Marinette’s collection leave the runway, comforted by the knowledge that though something obviously happened, the two of them were still fine. 

Smiling, he wondered if his son realized that he was the influence for Marinette’s pieces. She hadn’t said so to Gabriel, but the leather was quite obviously an homage to Chat Noir and he’d seen the suggestion Marinette sent to Adela for Adrien’s Christmas present. For a child raised in high fashion, his son had turned out to be quite bookishly dorky in is attire, and the tweed infusion into Marinette’s pieces were strikingly reminiscent of the checked shirt his son currently wore under his forest green sweater. 

Adela leaned further into his side then and he instinctively wrapped his arm tighter around her, placing a kiss lightly on her temple.  She met his gaze, giving him her soft smile, having noticed the direction of his glances.  Even all these years later, he was grateful for every moment he had with her. Every knowing glance and non-verbal conversation. They’d spent far too long consumed by their own fears of discovery and Germain’s wrath and then that dreadful year apart with little hope of being reunited. He would never take her presence for granted again. 

He’d married the best of women. Looking at the stage and seeing a blue eye peek through the gap in the curtain as  Marinette’s last piece left the runway, he was proud to say his son was following in his footsteps. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

She was ecstatic. All the thoughts from earlier in the night completely fled her mind in the rush of her first official show and Marinette felt high on the adrenaline. She didn’t even care that Madame Bernard had chastised her for peeking through the curtains, calling it ‘unprofessional’ because of the look on the audience’s faces...it was intoxicating. 

The designers all did their walk with their own collections and then the show was over and they were all released into the crowds. Walking out from the back her eyes immediately sought out Adrien’s and she practically squealed when she found them instantly, already trained on her, shining with such pride. She moved to bolt towards him when someone tapped her shoulder.

Trying to compose her face to hide her giddiness, she turned. The flash of amusement on the austere-looking woman’s face was evident, so Marinette knew her attempts to be calm had most likely contorted her face into some lunatic’s version of what serenity looked like. She didn’t even care.  _ That’s _ how high she was flying right now. Marinette, the same girl who couldn’t even form a coherent sentence to her crush for over a year, couldn’t even remember what embarrassment felt like in that moment.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She nodded, and stopped trying to keep her face calm, electing instead to just allow her exuberant smile free reign.

“I’m a representative of Chic Couture. I wanted to congratulate you on your impressive work.” The woman’s gaze flicked over Marinette’s shoulders and she could just see Adrien watching her intently out of the corner of her eye. The woman’s eyes sparked with recognition, but she said nothing. “I’ll let you get back to your family, but good work. It will be interesting to see what you do next.” She turned and strode away before Marinette could get another word in.

“Thank you!” She called, noticing the slight vibration in the woman’s shoulders before she walked out of the room, without, Marinette noted with a bit of satisfaction, talking to any other student designers.

Coming out of her reverie, she turned, intending to pick up her sprint right where she left off when instead she barreled immediately into her destination and Adrien was swinging her into his arms. 

“Mari! That. Was. Amazing!” He punctuated each word with a kiss and she was giggling like a schoolgirl, not caring about the mixture of amused and annoyed glances they were getting from nearby attendees.

“ Trésor!” She was transferred from Adrien’s arms to the burly hold of her father as he kissed her cheek loudly before ending up in her mother’s smaller, but no less firm, embrace. 

“That was magnificent, my love.” Sabine pushed Marinette’s bangs out of her eyes and regarded her with a tender expression. She noted, with amusement, that despite her daughter’s classic choice of a black dress and chic scarf, she’d quickly threw her hair up sometime during the night using a pencil as a makeshift hairstick, looking every bit the accomplished and determined designer she had become.  Sabine looked over then as Adela came to congratulate the girl as well, placing a hand on her back as she kissed her cheek.

“That was fantastic! I  _ need _ that cape, Marinette,” the blond woman teased and looked over at Sabine, the fondness for her daughter evident in Adela’s eyes. 

Marinette was basking in the love of her original and adopted moms when suddenly Gabriel was in front of her. The Agreste boys really needed to stop sneaking up on her like that. He grabbed both her arms urgently, but his face was split in a wide grin.

“What did Madame Delacroix say?”

“Who?”

“The woman!” Gabriel exclaimed and Marinette watched his excitement bubble over and tried to contain her laugh. He was trying so hard to maintain the composed version of himself that he presented to the world, but Marinette had come to learn that not only did his terrible dad jokes rival Adrien’s cheesy puns, but that Gabriel was most definitely a fashion geek. Not just a well-informed businessman in the fashion industry, but a through and through design nerd. When he caught Adrien and Marinette watching Project Runway one time, it was like a child on a sugar high. He’d been obsessed ever since.

“She said that my work was impressive and that she was interested to see more from me.  Why?” Marinette looked at him, perplexed now as his face broke out into an even bigger smile. “Who is she?”

“She’s the right-hand-woman of Abagail DeBabier.”

“No. Way. DeBabier? The founder of design DB? Oh. my. god. Ohmygod!” She turned to her parents. “She was an unknown until a few years ago when Celeste Morris wore her gown to Cannes, and she was discovered. In the past few years, there hasn’t been any elite formal event without one of her masterpieces on the red carpet and she’s created the most sought after fashion house in London!” She turned back to Gabriel. “Are you sure?”

His responding look of offense at her implication was enough to send Marinette into excited squeals.

Adrien had watched the whole exchange between his parents and Marinette, not caring at all that he was standing slightly off to the side. The way his family loved his lady...It was more than he’d ever dared dream of, and watching his father and Marinette gush over designers together, he could vividly imagine countless holidays and family dinners with the same amount of joy. He knew without a doubt that he was ready for an eternity of this, but he would settle for the rest of their lives.

“She’s  _ interested _ in  _ my _ work, Adrien!” Marinette turned to him then, her eyes glowing despite the dim lighting and instantly, she was back in her favorite place: the circle of his arms.

“Can I get in on this love fest?” Marinette dropped out of his arms and spun.

“ALYA!” She rushed to her friend, Alya laughed and braced herself for impact as Chloé came to stand beside Adrien and Nino.

And, in that moment, his family was complete.


	14. Chapter 13

Nino stared at Alya, regrets and longing burning through his joy over seeing her again.  They'd finally gotten together the last year of lycée, but with Alya going to university, and him chasing the music scene and not having a real schedule, it had just been impossible. He’d managed to come home for an overnight visit during winter break that first year, and tearful confessions and realizations had been made. They just couldn’t do it, at least not now. 

In all the time since, he’d seen her collectively for maybe a month. In  _ two years, _ he’d only seen her for  _ thirty days. _ They kept in touch, texting constantly, usually in the language of memes, and skyping while watching the horrible horror movies they both adored, but it wasn’t enough. Nino knew why they’d made the decision to break up. That first year apart had been hard on him, but at least he had his constant travels and gigs to keep him occupied. Alya was the one who had to deal with the distinct feeling of being left behind. She didn’t complain, but Nino could tell that his odd hours and trying to make it work was taking a toll on their relationship, and their friendship too; so they parted amicably. It was a mutual decision and they were still close friends, but Nino found himself suddenly wishing it had been messier, angrier. A clean break. Standing right now, watching Alya embrace her best friend with such emotion, Nino knew he would never love anyone they way he loved that curly-haired woman, with the endless eyes of the horizon and the tireless heart of a warrior. 

Suddenly, he felt his love twist into something darker.  _ Why can’t I have her? Does she love someone else? Does she even  _ **_deserve_ ** _ me? _ He eyes darted to Alya whose head snapped up and her gaze met his. Disentangling herself from Marinette, who had read her best friend’s expression instantly and was glancing back and forth between the two of them, Alya slowly walked over to Nino.

“Nino,” she approached cautiously, using the placating tone one uses to calm a cornered animal. Alya glanced over at Chloé, and the blonde nodded, confirming something between the two of them.

Nino felt his face twist into a sneer.  _ Since when were they so buddy-buddy? What else is she keeping from me? _

“Nino, look at me. Focus on me,” Alya whispered, trying to keep their conversation from reaching the ears of other show attendees standing nearby and placed her hands on his shoulders. He winced at the impact, but did as she asked, feeling less and less comfortable with his own thoughts. Alya kept talking in a low whisper and he felt her voice wash through his mind like a cold stream, shocking his system back to sense.

“Alys, what the hell just happened?” His voice was rough, but he saw her expression clear as she realized it was  _ him _ again.

“We need to talk,” she looked around and included the Agrestes and Dupain-Chengs in her gaze. “All of us.”

“Yes, we do,” Gabriel met her stare and Alya just nodded.

“Our place,” Tom decided. “We were going to have a celebratory dinner there anyway.” Tom walked over and put his arm on Alya’s shoulder, giving her a small squeeze as he passed by.

“And welcome home, Al. I have your favorite waiting back at the bakery.” She beamed up at him.

“You’re my hero, Tom,” he chuckled, placing his hand on the small of Sabine’s back and starting the gather their things to leave. Alya exchanged a small smile with Marinette as she and Adrien followed the burly man out of the room, followed closely by the Agrestes and Chloé.

“Alys?” Her attention was brought back to Nino, who had a guilty look on his face.

“It’s okay, babe. It wasn’t you. I’ll explain what I can.” She moved to follow the rest, but Nino grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay, let’s go,” and they walked out, linked. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Marinette tucked herself securely into Adrien’s side, the rough wool of his peacoat abrasive against her cheek, but she didn’t care. He squeezed her waist and kissed the top of her head, both of them needing their proximity after the rollercoaster of heightened emotions all night.

“I’m sorry your night began and ended in a bit of a disaster, Buginette.” He looked down at her, and she couldn’t deal with his pouty eyes anymore. The way he still affected her...it frankly wasn’t fair.

“It wasn’t too  _ cat- _ astrophic, chaton. Don’t worry your  _ purr _ -ty little nose.” She booped him, before hiding her hand back between the buttons of his coat against his warm chest. His genuine smile in response warmed her more than his body, though. 

“Still, it was your  _ mew _ -ment, and you were  _ meow _ -gnificent.” She rolled her eyes then, groaning into his shoulder.

“Really, Mari. Everything you make is wonderful, but tonight was something else. I’m so proud of you. And you churned that out last minute, even with some  _ distractions _ .” He winked at her, and she blushed involuntarily, earning a cheeky grin from Adrien. He reached up and gently brushed the back of his hand against her flaming cheeks.

“I love that I can still make you blush,” he murmured, and with the way that he was looking at her at the moment, she couldn’t imagine how earlier that night she’d ever doubted this man, weird occult forces or not.

“Hmm? So, not sick of me yet?” She hummed leaning into his hand.

“Never.”

“You sure?”

“ _ Paw- _ sitive.” He leaned in and kissed her, before pulling her closer and picking up their pace to keep up with their family and friends walking ahead of them.

Just when they were within reach of Alya and Nino, their clasped hands not escaping Marinette’s notice, a crash sounded to the north, and they all froze.

“That...Was that…?” Marinette broke off, not putting her thoughts into complete words because it was impossible. The eyes of all five current miraculous holders swung to an ashen looking Gabriel.

“Well,  _ obviously _ it wasn’t me!” Under different circumstances, Marinette would laugh at the petulant look on his face, like a kid accused of eating cookies before dinner the  _ one time _ he actually didn’t. 

“Looks like Cargo Pants is stepping up her game,” Chloé remarked with more than a little disdain in her voice. 

The five miraculous holders looked at each other, glancing around the deserted park they had cut through on their way to the bakery, and calling their transformations before running towards the sound.


	15. Chapter 14

_ “Much to the shock of the citizens of Paris, after five years of peace, it appears that the menace Hawkmoth is back and very much in action…” _

“Ugh!” Marinette angrily turned off the television and flopped back onto Adrien’s chest, resulting in a grunt from her boyfriend as she made contact a bit harder than she intended.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning over and snuggling into his side. She tried to enjoy their newly reclaimed couch and not think too much about the strange approximation of an akuma attack last night and the cryptic message from Fu to stay under the radar until he contacted them…

No, she was just going to focus on cuddling with her boyfriend on their couch in their  _ finally _ empty apartment since Nino had left with Alya the night before. His parents didn’t live in Paris anymore since they’d moved back to Ireland to take care of Nino’s grandmother. So for now, Nino was stuck couchsurfing, not that any of them minded. It just so happened that Alya’s family had left for the holidays already and were in  Nîmes, not expecting their eldest to come home over the break. Alya’s empty house seemed much more appealing for some reason. Marinette had  _ no idea _ why. She snickered to herself and Adrien gazed down at her with a soft look.

“Hmm?” He questioned, rubbing lackadaisical circles in her back.

“Alya and Nino,” she responded, knowing he was well-versed in their clipped-couple language.

“ Oh, our little Alyno,” he snorted

“Nilya?”

“Ninya,” he decided and she laughed

“Yes, please collectively call Alya and Nino a  _ little girl _ to their face. Do you  _ want _ to live to finish your fancy degree?”

“Worried about my safety? Don’t think I can handle our dear Ninya?”

“I think you could take the  _ Nin, _ the  _ Ya _ is a completely different monster. And this  _ Nette _ , is staying out of it.” She smirked up at him, referencing the couple name that Alya called them  _ relentlessly _ throughout lycée. 

“No!” Adrien gasped dramatically. “What is  _ Adri _ without his  _ Nette _ ?”

“Two letters short?” She responded innocently, only to be attacked.

“No! Stop!” she shrieked through her laughter as Adrien tickled her, squirming so much that they both rolled off the couch landing with a dull thunk on the floor. Adrien didn’t let up though, and she was off and racing to the other side of their apartment, putting the couch between her and Adrien.

“Behold,” he bellowed, stretching his arms wide and trying to look menacing in his best approximation of an akuma victim. “I am the Tickler and I will not stop until you are my  _ Giggler _ !” She rolled her eyes, but giggled despite herself.

“You’re ri- _ tick _ -ulous. What, no puns, chaton? You’re slipping in your old age, Agreste.”

He lunged for her then and she squealed, running in the opposite direction towards the corner of the studio that was their ‘bedroom’.

Trapped in a corner, she turned around and was tackled onto the bed as it rocked and slammed into the wall. She blushed at what the neighbors might think, but she didn’t have long to dwell on that thought before Adrien was tickling her again and she was gasping for breath.

“Enough! You win! You win!”

“haHA!” He exclaimed, grabbing her waist and spinning her so they were facing each other on the bed. “And what is my reward, M’Lady?”

“What would you have it be, dear sir?” He smiled, leaning towards her as she melted into the bed, some unknown gravitational force pulling her towards Adrien like she was the tides and he was her moon. He stopped a hair’s breadth from her lips.

“I want my  _ Nette _ back,” he whispered and she could feel the ghost of his lips moving against hers.

“Fine,” she breathed, relenting easily in hopes that he would hurry up and kiss her.

“Adrinette lives!” He turned his head and shouted towards the window. She groaned, burying her face in his chest.

“You’re such a dork,” she said to him, for what must be the thousandth time in their relationship.

“Yes, but I am your dork,” he responded, echoing the familiar refrain. 

“Yeah, you definitely are,” she snuggled closer, the mid-afternoon sleepiness hitting her. They definitely hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. Adrien wrapped his arms around her again and she focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest... The familiar softness of his geeky ‘Just deduce it’ t-shirt Alya had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago... The comforting smell of the fabric softener she always bought for their laundry... The scent that was uniquely Adrien, like the world right after a rainstorm and and parchment of a gently aging book...

Loving him was as easy as breathing. Nothing amazing, but considering everything that had to go right for this moment to exist? It was their own brand of miraculous. 

So she laid in his arms, blocking the worries of threats to the miraculous and new akuma attacks, and hoping not for the first time that maybe she’d be lucky enough to hold him forever. She closed her eyes. The rest of the world could wait.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Chloé walked up to the top floor of their townhouse and climbed out onto the roof as she always liked to do when she was feeling stressed. They’d moved out of Le Grand Hotel when her father finished his time as mayor. It had been convenient when he was in office, being able to have his staff in the building with him and close by to any visiting dignitaries, but afterward-- especially with Chloé being the elusive Queen Bee-- it became...problematic. There were always too many eyes at the hotel, and sneaking back into their penthouse, even with her superhero abilities, was a challenge. Besides, they moved into the hotel right after her mother had died, and her father was determined to give her a  _ real _ home, even if it came a little late.

She smiled, sitting in the center of the flat roof and crossing her legs in a meditative pose. Her father and she had become much closer in the years since Germain was arrested. It was like whatever barrier that existed between them since her mother’s death finally came crumbling down. André hadn’t disrespected his dying wife’s wishes and revealed the secret, but Chloé still knew who her biological father was and  _ nothing had changed _ . Or rather, it had, but not in the way André had feared. Chloé had no confusion about who her real father was, and André finally let go of the worry that Chloé might hate him if she ever found out the truth. 

Turning over a new chapter, they moved to a quieter part of the city and bought a spacious but not huge stone townhouse. Chloé loved it. Much different than the gilded hotel she’d spent many of her formative years in, the stone house was a  _ home. _ The exterior was lovingly weathered by years of the elements and shaded by sprawling plane trees that lined their street. Rose bushes framed the steps leading up their stoop and the front door was of solid wood and painted a deep burgundy with a wrought iron knocker that had the head of a lion--subjecting her to Adrien’s teasing, of course. Apparently, he had a monopoly on all things cat-related.

Her father had given her the entire third floor, offering her whatever she wanted to decorate it, but much to his and her friends’ surprise when she finally revealed it, the space was very minimalistic. Chloé wouldn’t deny that she enjoyed the finer things in life, but she’d become much less ostentatious as she matured. There was nothing wrong with wanting things of quality, but she’d grown to know that this didn’t always mean covering yourself in gems and brand names--though jewels never went out of style. 

Her room had slanted ceilings on each side as the house tapered slightly before flattening at the roof. At the back were french doors that led to a small balcony, but the street-facing side displayed a large rose window that accented the front of the house. The rose window was stained glass, but in muted pastel colors from years of sun exposure. Chloé had chosen to decorate her room in shades of cream with plush textures and muted furs, and the sun did the rest, shining through the glass and casting a rainbow across the room every morning while strategically draped twinkle lights gave the room a golden glow at night. 

But the true focal point of the room was her ceiling and the small galaxy the shone there each night when all light was gone.

She closed her eyes then, allowing the secret sad smile to cross her face remembering the reason they were put up. 

 

_ “And that line right there, see how it looks kind of like a wishbone? That’s cancer. And then a little to the left, those three stars that make a V? That’s the tail end of Leo…” _

_ Mathys spoke on, pointing towards stars that Chloé couldn’t quite find, but she didn’t mind. His quiet intelligence was mesmerizing. As was the soft vibration of his chest as he spoke. She turned her head from where it laid on his stomach to look over at him instead. She knew he must have felt her move, but he kept pointing. She closed her eyes, content to share his warmth in the chilled night air and listen to his sonorous voice. She always joked with him never to become a professor, because every girl in class would fall in love with him the second he opened his mouth. He always rolled his eyes at her, so oblivious to his unique appeal. _

_ He wasn’t traditionally handsome. His light brown hair was shorn on the sides but flopped in a mess of curls on top, partially obscuring his his dark brown eyes. He had a few too many freckles for convention and his ears stuck out just a bit. The slight gap in his front two teeth sealed the deal for most people, but she wouldn’t change one feature on his face. People were always shocked when she introduced him as her boyfriend, expecting her to be joking. Considering the vain reputation she’d created for herself, it wasn’t such a far-fetched assumption on their part, but it still infuriated her. Luckily, she had a glare that was pure fire, and after a few seconds on the receiving end, any less than kind remarks the people in question may have been on the verge of blurting out vanished in a puff a smoke. That and the fact that Mathys came from a rich family usually barred them from having to listen to people's  _ **opinions** _ about their relationship. Their  _ **suitability** _. As if it were any of their damn business. _

_ There weren’t many people Chloé would go to war for, but Mathys had quickly become one of them. Society may have deemed his appearance unremarkable, but Chloé saw his kind smile, his intelligent eyes, his steady heart... Not many had stuck around long enough to see who she really was. Fewer still put the effort into  _ **knowing** _ her, breaking down the exoskeleton she surrounded herself in and finding the person behind the public image. But he found her, and she trusted him with her whole self. She’d trusted him with her secret. _

_ “Am I boring you?” She opened her eyes and saw Mathys looking down at her. She shivered and sneezed, effectively ruining the romance of the moment but his eyes turned concerned. _

_ “C’mon, queenie. Let’s get you inside before Pollen yells at me for getting you sick.” _

_ He led her towards the balcony, jumping down and reaching up for her even though she’d had far more practice than him at climbing down off her roof. She guided her arms towards his shoulders and jumped, knowing he would catch her. His hands came firmly around her waist and pulled her down against his chest. He smiled his gap toothed smile and she couldn't help but kiss him. _

_ He tensed before readjusting his arms to pull her higher, bridging the gap in their heights and kissing her soundly. _

_ “If that’s my prize, I’ll speak nonsense about the stars to you every night.” _

_ “Every night?” She teased with an eyebrow raised. _

_ “Every. Night. I’ll just start making stuff up, but I don’t care, as long as you hold me like that.” His voice had started off teasing, but turned serious. All she could do was stare, a rush of reason coursing through her. _

_ They’d known each other for two years, finally becoming official a few months ago. It was a slow burn, and her friends had been surprised that it took over a year since she first asked him to the ball to finally woman-up. She went to finally have the talk and make their relationship official only to find that he’d already assumed they were. She’d never blushed so red in her life, but he never revealed that moment to anyone. He knew she could be proud, and she knew she could trust him to keep her secrets. To protect her pride. To protect her. _

_ “I love you.” _

_ The words slipped through the cracks of her unconscious unbidden, but as soon as they were floating between them in the night air, she didn’t regret them. He didn’t respond. He just stared at her in shock, his curly hair flopping lazily over one brow and blowing slightly in the chilled wind. Then he was kissing her, more powerfully and urgently than he ever had before. She felt him shift forward. Her back connected with her balcony door, but her head was cradled by one of his hands.  _

_ “I love you more,” he responded when he finally took a breath, and she couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her lips. _

_ “We are  _ **definitely** _ star-gazing every night now.” He didn’t answer, but she felt the smile on his lips as he kissed her again. _

_ A week later, when the weather had finally turned and not even warm drinks and heavy blankets could keep out the chill for long, Mathys bought her little glow-in-the-dark plastic stars and planets. Over the course of the next few days, she watched him meticulously place each star and planet based on a map he’d printed out. Even Chloé felt a little giddy as she watched the man she loved hang the stars for her. _

_ “It’s the day we met.”  He said to her, laying across her bed with her when he finally finished. _

_ “Hmm?” She asked, already wedged into his side and on the cusp of sleep. _

_ “This is what the sky looked like the day we met.” Tears sprung to her eyes as he said that, and  she curled further into his chest, wondering how much good karma she must have stored up in past lives to be who she was right now and still somehow find him. _

Meditating on her rooftop, she still didn’t know how she’d found him. Things were...different now. She’d been an idiot and pretended that she wanted a break.  Part of her reasoned that it’d be better this way. She loved him too much and it would be better for her to end it before he came to his senses and realized she wasn’t worth the pain. But most of it was a rare moment of selflessness and Chloé was trying to give Mathys some freedom. He’d never complained, his mellow personality seeming to cancel out some of her harsher edges, but she knew he deserved more. She wasn’t an easy person to love; so, she set him free, thinking maybe during his time in Germany, in his time separated from her, he’d finally find someone worthy of him. Looking at the situation they found themselves in right now with the Theo petra, she was glad that she did. Knowing Mathys, he’d happily stand on the front lines right next to her--in front of her if he could--despite having no powers. At least this way he was safe.

She sat, taking in her emotions, and letting herself  _ feel _ them. It was a private indulgence she reserved for when she was truly alone. She let the silent tears fall down her face but gave Pollen a reassuring smile.   _ At least he was safe, _ she tried to concentrate on that thought, but still felt restless.

“Screw meditation,” she muttered to herself, wiping her tears when she’d felt like she’d indulged herself in self-pity for long enough. “Time for wine.” She got up to trudge downstairs, a chuckling Pollen close behind. 


	16. Chapter 15

Alya combed through the internet, looking for witness reports and live coverage of last night’s...akuma attack. She didn’t even like calling it that, because it wasn’t true. This was something far darker than an akuma attack. Where Hawkmoth had been focused on collecting their miraculous, whatever last night was didn’t seem to mind if they were dead in order for that to happen.

She looked over to Nino, sprawled out on her bed, having fallen asleep with his headphones on. She had to take a few calming breaths remembering how many close-calls there were with him in particular. His powers were the least combative of all of them, and last night the... _ thing... _ the faux akuma... took advantage of that.  Despite the protection of his miraculous suit, he had at least three bruised ribs and a sprained wrist. He and Wayzz had been asleep most of the day, napping in between ravenous meal times. She and Trixx had also passed out as soon as they’d gotten back, but weren’t quite so affected.

The rest of the world was painting last night as the return of Hawkmoth and the akuma attacks, but even if she didn’t have veritable proof in the form of Gabriel Agreste that this was not the case, she still would know that it wasn’t true. Last night had been brutal and vicious. Any reporter worth something would be able to see the difference.

They arrived on the scene--all running in a formation that, despite the years out of practice, was ingrained in their beings by this point--but skidded to a halt when they reached the source of the noise. People rushed around the main thoroughfare, their only intent to destroy as much as possible, whether that be storefronts, park benches, or worse...people. Their actions were violent, but their faces were...blank. It was rioting without a cause, and Alya had the sick feeling that these people weren’t merely being manipulated, they were being controlled.

It had been...eerie. It reminded her vaguely of a zombie akuma Ladybug and Chat Noir had fought all those years ago, before she knew her best friends were the dynamic duo. Except, where that attack had been more low-budget youtube clip, last night was full scale  _ Walking Dead _ , if the zombies were stronger, more able-bodied, and after their miraculous, not their brains. 

The worst part was that they had  _ no idea _ how to stop it. There was no akuma to find and butterfly to cleanse. Nor an all-powerful miraculous ladybug cure to save the day. They fought for what must have been at least an hour, trying to restrain the citizens as they went and not actually harm them. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the rioting was over. She remembered vividly as the life came back to their assailants’ eyes, and they all looked around in a daze. The five miraculous holders went around, strategically releasing those they’d managed to tie or trap and generally just making sure no one was seriously hurt. Thankfully, other than a few bruises, everyone was fine. Ladybug tried to fix the damage, throwing her lucky charm up into the air, but instead of everything returning to its usual perfection, the street still resembled a disaster zone. Some windows were cracked instead of shattered, and the civilians claimed they felt a bit better, but one look at Ladybug, and Volpina knew that something was off. 

She was distracted then by Honu practically collapsing against her and Volpina realized just how badly he must have gotten tossed around. One look at the amassing reporters, and Volpina knew she did not have the patience for that tonight. With Chat’s help, she got Honu back to her apartment, and after a hour or so of them all milling around in silence and generally just making sure any injuries were tended to and kwamis were well-fed, they all went back home. 

They seemed to all wordlessly agree that they couldn’t handle dissecting whatever the hell just happened in that moment and would regroup later, but then this morning they’d gotten that cryptic message from Fu, and once again their future was in limbo. She looked back at the group chat, responding to Chloé’s text and checking in for both herself and Nino, just as Adrien had for himself and Marinette. For now, they were all safe. Slightly battered, but okay.

She shut her laptop, deciding that reading other people’s reporting on last night and not being able to set the record straight was just going to aggravate her more. Making sure Wayzz and Trixx had easy access to snacks, she turned back to her bedroom, suddenly extremely weary. 

She leaned down to take off Nino’s headphones and glasses. He always fell asleep with them on, and she was  _ not _ taking that boy glasses shopping again when he twisted them beyond recognition in his sleep. He was pickier than Chloé when it came to his eyewear. She removed her own specs and grabbed a blanket before molding into Nino’s side and covering them both. He shifted, mindlessly wrapping her in his arms and pulling her back against his chest. They were finally getting to a good place as  _ just friends _ and Alya knew she probably shouldn’t indulge in this level of intimacy, but she felt safe and at peace for the first time in 48 hours and in that moment she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences. She squeezed Nino’s hand holding her and allowed herself to drift into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Josephine sat in the small apartment. She’d bunked in far worse conditions on her digs, so the lack of furniture and the thin mat she was sitting on didn’t phase her at all. As she sipped the oolong tea, she closed her eyes and relished in the buzz of her thoughts.  _ Her _ thoughts. She felt tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes as Master Fu came back in, a piece of plywood and hammer in his hands, four nails being held carefully in his mouth.

“Here, please, let me,” she put down her cup and went to stand, only to have her vision go black as a rush of dizziness swept through her.

“Sit,” Fu commanded, his words muddled a bit, but firm. He took the nails from his mouth, setting them on the table as he moved to align the plywood over the shattered window. She watched him guiltily, only following his command because she found herself physically incapable of doing otherwise. Thankfully, the room only had one window so she hadn’t managed to do too much damage the night before. Still, the image of what had transpired was branded into her memory.

_ “Yes. Yeesss. Burn them to the ground.” A voice that was not hers spewed from her lips, even as the horror of the scene before her threatened to overwhelm what was left of her sane mind.  _

_ Too much. It was all too much. It was too similar. The rioting. The violence… _

_ She lived in London now, but where Jo grew up...even  after all these years she had trouble thinking about it. It was the reason she’d gone into archeology. She’d watched the treasures of her culture destroyed as her village descended into looting and meaningless destruction. In that moment, as her brother held off attackers and her mother hid her in a transport going north towards the sea, she vowed to preserve other cultures in the way no one had been able to protect hers.  _

_ She was jolted from where she hid by the sound of a body being slammed against the wall across from her. The boy, a bit younger than herself, rolled inward on himself, trying to catch his breath before his attacker reached him again. She watched as he forced himself into an upright position, his eyes renewing with energy as he heard a woman’s shout from somewhere in the distance. Somehow finding the strength, he braced his back against a dumpster and flipped it, trapping his attackers, before darting off towards the woman’s voice. His face had been foreign, but his eyes and his expression had been so familiar.  _

**He has Leo’s eyes** **_._ ** _ The thought drifted through her fractured consciousness, powerful enough to break through the madness overpowering her senses. Leo’s eyes. Her brother’s face, immortally 20 in her memory, flashed in her mind’s eye giving her the strength she thought was lost to the stone. _

_ Forcibly, she tore her gaze from the scene in front of her, breaking her concentration and hopefully the spell on the citizens too. She dragged herself down the street, gasping for breath as she fought for control over her body and mind. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to get away, holding onto the image of Leo’s face like a lifeline in a turbulent ocean, a feeling she knew all too well. _

_ Finding an abandoned alley, she clutched the stone in her hand and whispered her brother’s name over and over, remembering the sight of the boy in green being tossed against the wall, breath leaving his body, his eyes...Leo’s eyes...flashing in pain. She would not see those eyes dimmed again. Never again. She threw the stone as hard as she could, watching with a satisfied smile as it smacked against the wall with a bang and fell to the ground. She’d been weak, allowing the power of the stone to entrance her, but she knew better than most the corrupting nature of power. _

_ Feeling started to flood back into her limbs and her mind quieted for the first time in months.  _

_ Then the stone moved. _

_ A slow vibration at first, it started to rattle before it shot up in the air, ricocheting off the stone walls of the alley. It released a heart-stopping burst of power, making the night light up like noon on a summer day, and then her world went blank. _

 

_ Josephine didn’t know how many hours had passed, but she woke up in a small studio, being watched over by an elderly Asian man murmuring in a language she didn’t recognize--though it definitely didn’t sound Asian--and burning what looked like a smudge stick. Trying to reconcile the combination of so many cultures happening at once, a sharp pain shot through her head and she cried out. _

_ The man leaned forward, placing a hand on her forehead and chanting a bit louder.The pain subsided a bit.  _

_ “Let go of it, Josephine. You have to release all of it.” She looked over at him and he continued to hum. _

_ “What--” she began to ask and then a sharp burning shot up her arm from her palm. Looking down, she noticed obsidian flecs, cauterized into her skin like needles and she realized it wasn’t gone. “Get it out!” she screamed, waving her hand frantically. _

_ “You have to choose to let it go,” he responded in a maddeningly calm voice. _

_ “I did! I threw it! It’s gone! I don’t want it!” She looked frantically at him for help, but he just regarded her with a guarded expression and she realized that wasn’t true. A part of her was intoxicated by the power. For so much of her early childhood, she’d been helpless. Too young and weak to protect her home. Too small to understand what was happening around her. Too scared to save her brother...But with the stone, she was powerful. If she’d had that power before, no one would have had to die. _

_ Then her mind flashed to what happened earlier that night. The destruction. The violence. The pain in Leo’s eyes, so similar to how they looked the last time she’d seen them, giving his life so she and the other children had a head start at escape. This time, she’d been the cause of that pain. She hadn’t had the power. She’d been the tool the stone used to make others feel weak and helpless, just like she had felt not being able to save her village. Not being able to save her brother.  _

_ “No,” she whispered, and then, “NO.” She screamed the word, infusing it with all her intention and force of will. She watched as the shards of rock ripped from her palm and shot across the room, shattering the window as they fled.  _

_ Catching her breath, she looked over at the man, whose expression now regarded her kindly.  _

_ “Well, done, my child,” he murmured and started to smudge and cleanse the air around her with myrrh resin. She closed her eyes, taking in the familiar smell, and feel asleep.  _

 

She looked back at Fu as he finished boarding up the window and took a final sip of her tea.

“So, what now?”

“Now we do what Desymaic failed to so many years ago.”

“We?” She looked at him incredulously. As bad as she felt for what had happened, her instincts were screaming at her to run  _ away _ from the danger, not right back into the fire.

“Yes, you’re a part of this too, JoJo.” He looked at her kindly, but she was still taken aback, hearing the old nickname that no one had called her since her  _ tita _ had passed when she was seven. She looked into his eyes, seeing something other there like the wise woman in her village all those years ago, and she trusted him.

“Okay.”


	17. Chapter 16

Gabriel paced, hand cupping his chin and brow furrowed, during the entirety of Fu’s explanation. It had been three days since the ‘akuma attack’. He’d been filled in by Adrien about the whole ‘Theo Petra’ nonsense, but that’s what he had regarded it as. Nonsense. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, not real life. But then, as Marinette would point out to him, he transformed into ‘Lord of the Butterflies’ for the better part of the last twenty years, so maybe reality was too high a standard. 

“And you want us to just forget what Miss Cargo Pants--”

“Josephine,” Master Fu interjected, and Alya rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Alya amended, her voice no less angry. “You want us to just forget what  _ Josephine _ did to us? She’s been stalking and manipulating us! She basically terrorized Chloé for a month, and look what she did last night! Look what she did to Nino!” She waved her arms angrily in the boy’s direction. He sat on one of the more rigid chairs in the room, his posture straight and tense, obviously still in pain from where he’d badly bruised his ribs. 

Gabriel looked around the room, noting that each of them was hesitant to trust this girl, despite Fu’s insistence that she was an integral part of destroying the stone. Maybe it would go down better if Fu was less cryptic with exactly  _ what _ had happened last night. 

“Master Fu,” Marinette started respectfully, trying to dissolve the tension of Alya’s outburst. “I’m happy you were able to help her. Josephine,” she amended quickly. “If what you are saying is true, and she was the stone’s pawn, then I am happy she’s free, but I still don’t understand what you’re getting at. If the stone was able to take advantage of her once, what’s to say it won’t happen again? What are you not telling us?”

“It won’t happen because the stone no longer needs a host. Unfortunately, when Josephine expelled the last of the stone’s shards, it was tainted with a part of herself. While this gives the stone the power it lacked to be autonomous, it also gave it an exploitable weakness. “

“Josephine,” Chloé finished for him, starting to realize what he was saying. The others looked over to her, obviously still confused, and Chloé’s eyes took on an excited light. “That’s what you mean when you say she’s an important part of destroying the stone. It’s like in greek mythology. The gods always need heroes to do their bidding on earth because they can’t interfere directly in mortal affairs. So the stone needed to work  _ though _ Josephine, but then a part of Josephine imprinted on the stone, she bled for it, even if that happened while she banished it from her being. So, it’s like...a demigod now.” She looked over at Fu who nodded at her with a smile.

“A demigod?” Nino asked, cringing as he moved to lean forward before remembering his injuries. Alya rubbed his back soothingly, but kept her eyes trained on Chloé.

“Yeah,” Chloé continued, trying to reword her convoluted realization and thanking Mathys for being such a PJO nerd. “Like the demigods in Greek mythology had the ability to affect mortal  _ and  _ godly affairs. The stone has the power to cross that boundary now.”

“How is that a good thing?” Alya asked, raising an eyebrow, though slightly amused by Chloé’s enthusiasm.

“Because, just like demigods, it’s vulnerable to both now. We have the edge that Desymaic didn’t. It’s, for lack of a better term,  _ mortal _ now. It can be destroyed.”

 

When they all shuffled out about twenty minutes later, the atmosphere of the group was a bizarre mixture of relief, trepidation and lingering anger. They had agreed to meet with Josephine the next day, after much mediation on Marinette and Chloé’s part--Chloé more out of curiosity than anything else. They’d meet at Fu’s apartment, around noon. While it would be tight, no one felt comfortable having this woman in their house yet, regardless of Fu’s assurances that she was contrite for everything she’d done while possessed. 

Gabriel hugged Adrien last, holding a little longer than he usually would, but his son didn’t seem to mind. The whole situation had unsettled Gabriel, especially with his secret identity’s name being dragged through the headlines again, and worry nagged at him. It was that feeling when you were so happy, you knew it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.

As he closed the door, Gabriel felt small arms wrap around his waist from behind as Adela’s lithe form molded against his back. She leaned her cheek against the spot between his shoulder blades and he grabbed both her hands, lifting them to kiss each palm tenderly before wrapping them more securely around his center.

“It’s going to be fine, Gabe. We won’t let anything happen to him. To them.” He felt her place a kiss on his back and he smiled slightly, still staring out the window towards where the kids’ forms were blurry in the distance.

“No, we won’t.” He spun, holding Adela firmly against his side as they walked back towards the living room. Adrien and his friends weren’t children anymore. He’d watched them all grow from gawky and awkward teenagers into the strong and confident young adults they were now. He knew they could all handle themselves, but that didn’t change the fact that Gabriel would stop at nothing to protect them. 

Paris had feared the villain Hawkmoth, but threaten his kids and the world wouldn’t know what had hit it. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Adrien dashed around the small corner of their apartment. He’d changed his shirt at least twenty times now. Luckily, Marinette was still in the shower, so he could openly freak out without making her suspicious. Plagg and Tikki, on the other hand, had a front row seat to his burgeoning insanity. 

Tonight, they were having dinner with the Dupain-Chengs and it was the first opportunity Adrien had to  _ officially _ ask for their blessing. Sabine had practically given it already when she handed him the family heirloom jade stones, but tradition was important in Marinette’s family and he wanted to make sure he did this right. 

For some reason, he’d fixated on picking  _ the perfect _ shirt as the key to his success in this.

He ran his hands through his hair for the tenth time, cementing that this would be a bedhead-style night,  and looked back and forth between the blue and green shirts. Both solid button-ups with a single chest pocket. Both a soft cotton. Both from some fancy designer his dad knew and both impeccable tailored to fit him.

“The green,” Tikki floated over his shoulder. “Marinette loves you in green.”

“Thanks, Tikki.” He deflated a bit, tossing the blue shirt back into the closet and pulling the green shirt on, leaving it untucked over his black jeans.

“I don’t know. I liked the blue. It’s a calming color,” Plagg piped up from where he was lounging on the windowsill. Adrien just shot him a narrow-eyed glare, Tikki beating him to the retort.

“Leave him alone, Plagg. He’s nervous.” She swatted at Plagg’s ear and his kwami gave a half-hearted hiss. She just rolled her eyes.

“You already know the answer, kid. Just relax.” Plagg’s voice softened almost imperceptibly, but years of experience allowed Adrien to detect the change in his tone. Adrien took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating of his heart, when a hand landed on the center of his back. Adrien jumped, and were he a true cat, his fur would definitely be up.

“Jeez, Kitty! Why are you so jumpy.” Marinette skirted past him, still wearing a towel and her hair wrapped up in a bun.

“Yeah, sorry. Um..just...thinking.” He heard Plagg snicker, but when he went to shoot his kwami a glare, Tikki had already dragged him halfway towards the kitchen, giving Marinette privacy to change. 

“Yeah, let’s just try to enjoy dinner with my parents for now. Papa is making chocolate croissants just for you,” she grabbed a sweater dress out of the closet and looked over her shoulder to grin at him as he gasped over the mention of Tom’s chocolate croissants. Chuckling, she turned back around to finish getting ready.

Any success he had in regulating his heartbeat was dashed when Marinette dropped her towel and started to slip on her dress. They may have been just the  _ smallest _ bit late to dinner.

 

“Adrien!” Tom bellowed as they arrived at the Dupain-Cheng’s later that night and Adrien was enveloped into the embrace of the much larger man while Marinette greeted her mother. They came for dinner at least once a week, but her parents were no less enthusiastic every time.  “There’s a fresh batch of croissants in the box by the door. Don’t forget to grab them.”

“Hey!” Marinette protested, coming over to kiss her Papa on the cheek. “Are you trying to fatten up my trophy husband?” She joked with her father, but Adrien felt his face flush crimson at her saying the word  _ husband-- _ and using it to refer to  _ him _ \--and his hand moved instinctively to cover the place where her ring sat in the breast pocket of his jacket. It made him feel a bit giddy, and while Marinette had already moved on and was chattering away with her mom and Tikki, Tom definitely noticed his reaction and gave Adrien a smile from ear to ear. 

“I’ve been experimenting with some savory pastries, too. With camembert, just for you, Plagg.” The black kwami was staring at Adrien with an unhelpful smirk, but with Tom’s mention of his favorite food, his attention was diverted.

“Sabi! I forgot Plagg’s food down in the bakery. We’ll be right back,” he called to his wife, who simply waved a hand in his direction without turning around in response. She and Marinette were already hands deep in stuffing some kind of dumpling.

Without another word, Adrien followed Tom out of the apartment and down the stairs to the bakery, where he led him into the back and grabbed a box from under the counter.

“Oh,” Adrien grabbed the small package. He’d been sure Tom had brought him down here to interrogate him. He looked up at the mustached man and saw the crooked grin on his face. “Ah,” Adrien rubbed the back of his head nervously, for some reason no longer incapable of real speech. So his instincts had been right. 

“Sooooo,” Tom dragged the word out, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Even in his half-addled state, Adrien noticed that Tom said  _ tell _ and not  _ ask. _ As much as they liked their traditions, Tom knew his daughter and knew she didn’t  _ need _ his permission to do anything, even get married. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t  _ want  _ his and her mother’s blessing, and as close as Adrien was to the family, and as sure as he was that Tom wouldn’t deny his request, somehow this was the most nerve-wracking thing he’d ever done. He hesitated, fidgeting with everything and nothing.

“Son,” Tom’s low voice brought his attention back into focus. “You know you’re already family, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Adrien squeaked, and then cleared his throat.

“And we love you as if you were.”

“Yes, sir,” he tried again, grateful that he sounded more normal.

“And I would love for it to be official in everyone else’s eyes, even though it already is to us.” Tom finished softly, and looked at Adrien expectantly. Adrien just nodded, all his practice of exactly what he was going to say flying out the window.

“Tom, I love your daughter more than life itself and would like to ask your and Sabine’s blessing to marry her.”

“Well, it’s about damn time,” a petite voice sounded from behind him, and Adrien spun to find Sabine descending the stairs into the kitchen. His eyes darted to where she had come from, but Sabine made a dismissive hand gesture.

“Don’t worry. I left her upstairs steaming dumplings. I thought I’d better check on you two before you got into too much trouble.” She looked at Adrien with a teasing glint in her eyes. 

“Sabine, I was going to ask you together--I mean, I was going to ask you too--”

“I know, dear.” She laid a hand on his cheek and patted it softly. “We’d be honored to have you as part of the family. Officially.” Her laugh tinkled through the empty space. “And Marinette will be thrilled, too.” She added, giving him a pointed look, and he felt his nerves ease slightly.

“Thank you,” he looked at both of them gratefully.

“Now, we can’t keep Marinette waiting upstairs too long. She’s a suspicious girl,” Sabine’s eye’s sparkled and she held out her hand. “Show me the ring.”

Tom scooted around to be closer to his wife and Adrien laughed at their excited anticipation and he reached into his pocket for the small box, enjoying the camaraderie of this secret between him and, hopefully, his soon-to-be in-laws.


	18. Chapter 17

Josephine paced in Master Fu’s small apartment waiting for the others to arrive. She’d scarcely left it since she arrived two days ago and was feeling a bit stir-crazy. She’d lived most of her life sleeping out under the stars. Even now, living in London, she left the city as much as she could on assignment and often went camping in the country just to escape the claustrophobic city life. But she was stuck in Paris right now, and roaming the streets alone made her feel...vulnerable in a way she’d thought she had left behind in her youth.

She still felt it in her head. She hadn’t mentioned it to Master Fu yet. Partly because she  felt weak for not being able to even properly dispel it from her subconscious and partly because it felt...different than before. It didn’t feel like it was controlling her, but she still felt the connection, though muddled like a long-distance call… But that didn’t make sense. She felt the connection lessen each day, but had a horrible feeling that as long as the stone existed, she would be connected to it. Whatever she’d done had made it vulnerable, but it had made her vulnerable too. She stopped short of running her fingers through her hair again, afraid that at this rate she pull it all out come nightfall, and tried to  focus her energy on one thing.

So she paced.

Then she heard a knock at the door and cursed in her people’s forgotten language under her breath as she moved to the far corner of the room. Wringing her hands, she tried not to fidget and sent up prayers to her ancestors that the shit wouldn’t hit the fan.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Chloé was late. Chloé was never late. It was stressing her out. 

She’d woken up that morning around ten feeling completely dehydrated and with a relentless thudding vibrating through her brain. A brain which she doubted actually existed, because if it did then  _ why didn’t it stop her from drinking so much wine last night _ ?

She clunked downstairs to find her father enjoying coffee and a late breakfast. Putting off morning pleasantries, she forced herself to chug three glasses of water before even going near the celestial caffeine. When she finally made it there, she let out a sigh of ecstasy and downed half the cup before looking up and seeing her father watching her with an amused expression. 

“Rough night?” He quirked an eyebrow in her direction, his glasses perched on his nose and hair still flattened on one side from sleep. She didn’t even want to think about what she looked like at the moment.

“Nngh,” she responded, her wit shining through beautifully as she turned to refill her cup before starting back towards her room.

“Oh, Chlo?” She looked back at her father. “Mathys called the house this morning. Something about making sure you got his messages?”

Chloé looked at her father quizzically.  _ Mathys? _ Then recollection of the previous night rammed her out of nowhere, making her stumble and spill a sacred drop of her coffee as if it were a physical force.

“No...no.no.no.No.NO.” She spun and quickly scuttered back upstairs to where her phone was. Her father wisely did not comment on her bizarre behavior and went back to the Sunday paper. 

She slowed when she made it to her room, cursing her choice to bathe her room in shades of cream making it so susceptible to stains. She gingerly placed the coffee cup on her mirrored dresser and then continued her mad-dash to her phone, lying innocuously in the center of her bed.

If anyone had born witness to the horribly unattractive grunt that escaped Chloé’s lips as her body made forcible contact with her bed, she would deny it. Currently though, she didn’t give a crap, and finally had her phone in her hands.

_ 2 new voicemails _

The notifications flashed across the screen and Chloé’s heart flipped delightfully. 

“Pull yourself together, Chloé. You’re not 16 anymore,” she tried to admonish herself, but then she saw the other notifications.

_ 11 missed calls _

_ 7 new text messages _

“Shit,” she realized something was definitely up. Trying to push her worry aside, she eagerly pressed play and held the phone to her ear, relishing the sound of his voice. 

_ “Chlo? You’re not answering. I just got you message. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would have...well, I don’t know what I would have done, but I could have at least been there for you. You and your damn scheme to ‘set me free’ or whatever bullshit Pollen told me you said.”  _ Chloé cringed, and shot Pollen a look, but the kwami stared directly back at her, completely unapologetic.

“I told you it was bullshit before you even did it. Don’t look at me like that,” Pollen huffed, and buzzed to her corner of the room. Chloé just rolled her eyes and focused back on Mathys.

_ “I played along, but enough is enough. I love you, god damn it! If you’re in trouble, or gee, I don’t know, IF A PSYCHOPATHIC POSSESSED GIRL IS STALKING YOU _ , _ I’d like to know. Okay? Let’s just make a note of that for future reference.”  _ he sighed, and Chloé could vividly see him dragging his hand down his face the way he always did when he thought she was being stubborn. He did it a lot. 

“ _ Are you alright?”  _ he continued in a much softer voice.  _ “Please, queenie, just call me back, okay?” _

Her heart lurched. God, she missed him. A huge part of her wanted to call him, tell him she needed him, have him come home immediately... but her logical brain swatted that heartsick longing away. It was still too dangerous. She moved on and listened to his other message, time stamped a few hours later.

_ “Forget this. I’m kind of in no-man’s land right now--visiting that eccentric uncle in Iceland, you remember? The one that sent you that wool sweater that’s super scratchy?--and I’m honestly surprised I have any service right now. I had to walk a mile before I even saw your first message--but none of that’s important. Long story short, I’m coming home. It’ll take me a few days to get to Reykjavik, but then I’ll be home. And I’m ignoring any texts you try to send telling me not to, so deal with it.” _

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Chloé threw the phone onto her bed, and walked around her room aimlessly, rubbing circles into her temple.

“What is it?” Pollen flew back over.

“He’s coming home.”

“Good boy.”

“No! Not good boy! Pollen! It’s dangerous!” She looked at her kwami in exasperation.

“Chloé, he cares about you. He  _ loves _ you. Whatever happens next, I do know that you need to be at your best mentally. You have a tendency to forget that somethings aren’t just black and white, and sometimes you need to just let people  _ love  _  you. Marinette has Adrien and Alya and Nino have each other, whenever they finally get their shit together. I’m not saying you need a man,” the kwami’s eyes narrowed, anticipating her retort. “But you have a horrible tendency to go it alone, to feel like you’re a part of the team, but not one of the core four. You created that situation for yourself, no one forced you into it. You always assume that you have to do it alone, and forget that you are so loved. Mathys reminds you of that. He gives you something to fight for and come home to.”

Pollen was right, but she definitely wasn’t going to admit that now, and she was still extremely worried. Instead, she remained silent and stomped off towards the shower to try and make herself look like a human being before noon.

“Please, ignore me now,” Pollen called after her. “It will make it so much sweeter when you admit I’m right later!”

 

That was how she found herself less than two hours later, hustling in a frazzled state towards Fu’s apartment. Chloé did not do frazzled, and it was only making her day even worse.  She finally arrived, only five minutes late, to find everyone else waiting for her on the sidewalk. She watched Adrien’s face light up as he noticed her disarrayed state, but before he could even utter whatever dad-joke/pun he’d prepared in the hope of such an occasion, she pointed a finger menacingly at him.

“Don’t even think about it, Adri. I have 15 years of dirt on you these three can’t even begin to imagine.” He held up his hands in surrender, but Marinette snorted as his eye flashed in fear. 

“Storing that tidbit of information away for future reference,” Alya smirked at Chloé but didn’t remark on her harried state. “You ready?”

“No,” Chloé answered honestly, and Marinette reached over and grabbed her hand. This girl may have been possessed, but she had messed with Chloé far more and far longer than the rest of them, and Chloé wasn’t one to usually forgive a grievance easily. She tried to collect any semblance of calm and compassion that she could, mustering the resolve to not blame Miss Cargo Pants, but it wasn’t instinctive to Chloé and it was harder than she’d imagined. 

“Let’s go.”


	19. Chapter 18

Alya followed Chloé and Marinette, trying to temper her emotions and put on her reporter hat. She’d interviewed plenty of people who she personally detested before, but she managed to keep a level head. This wasn’t about liking  _ Josephine _ , it was about seeing if she could be useful. She looked at Chloé, who had more right than any of them to be pissed, as she walked in front. Only Alya was close enough to see the white-knuckle grip she had on Marinette’s hand. Then she glanced over at Nino, still banged up from the other night, but with a calm smile on his face. He caught her glance and gave her a wink. She smiled back and rooted her resolve.

Setting her mind to the task, she felt Trixx peek out from her curls and give her an encouraging nuzzle.

“Be nice, love.” She whispered in her ear.

“I’ll be fair,” Alya murmured back as they arrived at the door to Fu’s apartment. Marinette turned around, giving her best friend a knowing look, having heard her comment. Alya stuck her tongue out at her and she reciprocated, and with that small action, Alya felt better. More grounded. 

Marinette lifted her hand to knock, but before it made contact, it swung inward and Master Fu stood before them. He looked at Marinette, seeming to ask a silent question and Marinette nodded in response before following him into the room. Chloé hesitated long enough to glance back at Alya and roll her eyes, making the latter snicker. Marinette had a strange affinity for the miraculous weirdness, despite her initial reluctance for her role. Master Fu’s mysticism didn’t phase her like it did the others. It went further than the influence of her eastern culture, it was just something innate in Marinette. Chloé and Alya, on the other hand, had considerably less tolerance for Fu’s crypticness. 

She followed the girls into the room, Adrien, Nino and the Agrestes close on her heels and they all stood motionless, coming face to face with the woman. Standing stiffly in the corner next to a boarded up window and hugging her arms around herself, was Josephine. Marinette turned to look at all of them, asking for collective permission, before she moved forward towards Josephine. Chloé held out a hand and stopped her, stepping forward herself.

“Josephine,” Chloé said, in an extremely calm voice and the woman’s eyes met hers before darting around the room to look individually at them all. When they finally landed on Nino, they stopped, watching him far longer than the others. Alya’s first reaction was anger, and more possessiveness than she was comfortable admitting, but then she focused on  _ how _ Josephine’s eyes looked and not just  _ what  _ they were looking at. 

There was a heaviness in her face suddenly, as if her eyes held a sadness centuries old despite appearing to be at most thirty. Alya had seen similar looks when she had interviewed war veterans last semester. Like the paradox of war, violence to ensure peace, it was a gaze so concentrated but fractured at the same time. She was looking at Nino, but Alya had the distinct feeling that  Josephine was seeing someone else entirely. 

Josephine finally moved on, meeting Alya’s gaze and she saw the woman flinch. She moved quickly to look back at Chloé, not enjoying the way Alya’s eyes were understanding and so penetrating at the same time. 

“I’m sorry,” Josephine began. “I didn’t want any of this. I can’t even explain--You’ll never know--” She broke off, and Alya saw the distance increase in her eyes. Alya walked over, crossing the space between them, but stopped next to Chloé.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened? From the beginning.” Alya glanced at Chloé, and saw the girl smile a bit and nod, before walking back to pick a spot around the mat in the middle of the room. Alya looked back at Josephine, and flicked her head in the same direction, inviting her to sit, before picking a spot. The rest of them following suit. Josephine seemed more hesitant, but also sat.

“Josephine?” Marinette prompted, when she remained silent.

“Jo,” she corrected, almost automatically, and Alya saw the spark of what must be her usual vibrance flash though. “Um, I usually go by Jo,” she amended and then, gathering her courage, told her tale.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Towards the end of Jo’s story, Nino realized Fu had never sat down with them. Come to think of it, he let them in and then disappeared. As if called by Nino’s thoughts, Master Fu reappeared in the doorway of the kitchen, meeting Nino’s eyes and winking playfully. Nino rolled his eyes, but got up to take the tea laden tray from the older man.

“And...you know the rest,” He turned around to hear Jo trail off. He looked over at the boarded-up window. They did know the rest. Fu had told them about how Jo had managed to somehow break the hold of the stone...and the consequences of that, both good and bad. 

“But, how did you break the hold? You said you almost did once outside the art building the night of Marinette’s show, but couldn’t. What changed?” Chloé leaned forward, breaking the respectful silence everyone have maintained while Jo had spoken.

Nino watched as Jo’s eyes flicked to him and then flitted away just as quickly, her face turning a bit ashen. He could practically see her mind churning as she searched for a way to avoid the question, and he set his jaw. She was still uncomfortable around them. Completely understandable, of course. He’d be uncomfortable around a group of people with superpowers who just a few days before you had been tormenting. It wasn’t exactly a level playing field anymore, and it was only natural to fear some kind of retribution. She didn’t know them, and honestly, though Chloé had been extremely kind so far, her usual no-nonsense self was starting to break through. She was staring at Jo waiting for an answer, and while there was no malice in her gaze,  even Chloé’s least potent stare was unsettling to those unaccustomed to her straightforwardness. 

Breaking the awkward tension in the room that had followed Chloé’s  unanswered question, Nino shuffled back towards the mat, holding the tray less level than usual so the cups and kettle would clink together and make a distracting noise as he set the tray heavily in the middle of them all.

“So, an archeologist from London, huh? Like a chick Indiana Jones.” Alya snorted at his comment and he smirked at Jo, watching as the anxious tension eased in her shoulders and a lively spark came back to her eyes. He leaned forward and started to pour the cups of tea, sending a look Adrien’s way and hoping his dude would get the hint. 

“Well, at least that’s one mystery solved.” Adrien remarked and winked at Nino. He grabbed two cups, handing one to Marinette and one to Jo on his other side.

“Oh?” Jo played along, a smile playing on the corner of her lips as she took the steaming tea from Adrien with a nod of thanks, but her attention diverted as Marinette started to giggle.

“The cargo pants!” she gasped between peals of laughter, and even Chloé snorted along.

Jo looked at them quizzically, but there was a smile on her face.

“Thank god that was a practicality and not a fashion statement. Then, I’d actually have reason to hate you,” Chloé laughed then, but Nino watched the affect of her words on Jo. Chloé had basically just confirmed to her that  _ no _ , they didn’t blame her, and  _ no _ , they didn’t hate her. 

“Thank you,” she looked at Chloé then, and the blonde girl’s face turned serious.

“Please, we’ve all made mistakes. Some of us without the excuse of being possessed.” She looked at Jo kindly, and Nino saw Alya reach over and grab Chloé’s hand in solidarity. For someone who claimed to be indifferent to most people, Chloé was forever berating herself for her past actions towards them, even when the others considered it water under the bridge.

“I am grateful for your forgiveness,” Jo began in a clipped tone, a peculiar accent showing through her French again that Nino couldn’t place, though it sounded nothing like any European accent he’d ever heard and definitely wasn’t that of a native English speaker. “But I need to be honest. I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you, and the stone still...I can still…” She broke off, trying to find the right words.

“What are you afraid of?” Nino leaned forward, looking directly into her eyes. She met his gaze unflinchingly, seemingly to look right through him.

“I still can feel it,” she admitted. “Not like before. It doesn’t have power over me, but I feel a strange...connection?” She dropped her head into her hands, groaning and rubbing her temples. “I just want it out. Gone.”

“And it will be,” Master Fu chose that moment to join the conversation. 

“But how? You keep saying that, but you’re not  _ actually  _ saying anything.”

“Exactly,” Chloé echoed Jo’s grievance. “Always have to be  _ so cryptic _ .” She huffed, but Master Fu only smiled at them, and Nino realized his plan to bring them together was working. Chloé had already found common ground with Jo, even if it was at Fu’s expense.

“You’re our connection. Like you said the other night, Chloé. Demigods could be killed by mortals  _ and _ immortals. Well, in the stone’s case it is the miraculous, each power working in tandem to simultaneously oppose the stone’s power, and with the consent of one specific mortal: JoJo.”

“Wha--What?” Jo sputtered, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Not to worry, my dear,” he patted her knee. “You’ve already done your part. Well, at least your part for this. You gave up the stone of your own volition, creating its vulnerability. You will be connected to the stone until it is destroyed, but that part is down to the miraculous holders.”

“I thought you said Desymaic already animated the stone when he died trying to kill it. Why would what Jo did make it any weaker?” Marinette narrowed her eyes at Fu, clearly still perplexed.

“Ah, but Desymaic was the stone’s creator. Remember, he devoted his entire life to the study and creation of it. While he took the noble road in the end, a part of him rebelled against the stone’s destruction. JoJo not only escaped it’s grasp, but rejected everything it embodied. She  _ defeated _ its hold on her, proving it was not all powerful and imbedding her spirit of resistance within it. She has cracked it, now you all must finish what she started.”

Fu got up then, collected the tea, and walked back out of the room, allowing them to sit and watch the bomb he just dropped explode in slow-motion as they just stared slack-jaw at its progress.

“My part for  _ this?  _ Like there’s more after we defeat the killer rock? Ugh,” Jo rubbed a hand down her face in exasperation and breaking the silence in the room. 

“See?” Chloé huffed, crossing her arms. “He always knows more than he lets on initially.”

“Maybe he just figures it out as he goes along and  _ pretends _ he’s just all-knowing,” Alya rebutted, neither of them ever having bought into Fu’s eccentric personality.

“Maybe he’s been communing with the ancestors,” Jo  waved in Fu’s direction and quipped sarcastically to them. Marinette perked up.

“That’s what I always say! He talks about past miraculous guardians as if they were still present sometimes. It’s got to be that.”

The group broke up into separate discussions for a while before it became apparent that Master Fu had made his final exit of the afternoon and would not be reappearing. They all got up and slowly started to shuffle out of the room. Nino was the last to leave, and Jo grabbed his arm as he walked by.

“I need to thank you.”

“For what?”

“The reason I was able to break the hold? It was because of you.”

“Me,” Nino furrowed his brow at her. “But, you didn’t even know me.”

“You have Leo’s eyes.” She blurted out, dropping his arm, and wrapping her arms around her center again. “You have my brother’s eyes, and when I saw you that night...Anyway, it fractured the stone’s hold on me enough.”

“So, your brother has brown eyes, too?”

“Had. And it’s not just the color.” She paused. “This will probably sound crazy to you, but my people believe in rebirth. Not of a person, of course, but of their essence. My brother died twenty-one years ago. How old are you?”

“Twenty,” Nino answered, his throat dry. “Look, I’m happy that I was able to help in some way, but I’m not your reincarnated brother.”

“Of course not,” she scoffed at him, but didn’t break eye contact. “But you have his eyes.”

Nino started to fidget, tapping his fingers against his thigh in a nervous drum solo. He may have had his mother’s Egyptian face, but his father was Irish and he had been raised in Paris and Catholic. Even if he wasn’t religious anymore, that culture was still there and he could almost audibly hear his grandmother screaming _ ‘blasphemy!’ _ all the way from good ole  É ire. Jo sensed his discomfort, and took a step back.

“Don’t worry about it, Nino. I just wanted to say thank you. My reasoning seems bizarre to a western ear, but it gives me comfort.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Sorry.” She waved him off and he saw Alya peek her head back in to check on him.

“Coming?” She looked quizzically between him and Jo, but smiled and he knew she had been eavesdropping.

“Bye Jo!” She grabbed his hand, correctly assuming that he was too shocked to move.

“Bye,” Jo whispered back and shut the door behind them.

He walked in silence holding Alya’s hand for a few minutes before she cracked.

“God, stop freaking Nino. So you have a part of her brother’s soul in you, or not! She literally said it  _ was not _ reincarnation.”

“Damn nosy reporters. I knew you were listening.”

“I’m not nosy, I’m well-informed and dedicated to my craft.” She lifted her chin and he snorted a laugh. “It’s a common belief in a lot of cultures. That a soul is never destroyed, it just changes form. I think it’s lovely.”

“Don’t let the Lahiffe clan hear you say that. My gran will have you doused in holy water before you can finish the sentence.” He tucked the hand he was still holding into the crook of his arm and smiled when she allowed him to pull her closer to his side.

“I think we can trust her,” Alya remarked as they finally walked out onto the street, the others long gone, having said their goodbyes in the apartment.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s seen war. Remember that article I sent you a few months ago? She looked like those veterans I interviewed. Like she was present, but a part of her died a while ago. I think, maybe, that’s how she lost her brother.”

Nino stared ahead. “Why does that mean we can trust her?”

“Because I also saw her strength. She’s done letting war take people from her. And you have her brother’s eyes.”

She trailed off then, letting him sit with his thoughts. For some inexplicable reason, he found that he trusted Jo, too.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Back at Fu’s, Jo stared at the shut door, wondering if it was a mistake to dump all that on Nino, when clearly it was very outside his normal way of thinking.

“No, you did well. It is good for Nino’s beliefs to be challenged in these ways.” Fu was suddenly behind her, but she didn’t startle. Even after all these years of living in London, she still remembered the way the wise woman of her village had been able to move with otherworldly silence. 

“What do you mean? I think I just freaked him out,” she admitted but could see a scheming look glint in Fu’s eye. He smiled, but she had the feeling that he had forgotten she was even in the room with him.

“If all is how it should be, and he is who he shall become, he will soon need to be far more open to things beyond his current reality.”

She watched as his eyes darted to the phonograph she had accidentally learned did not actually play music but was instead a nifty hiding spot for the miraculous.

“What are you planning?” She raised an eyebrow at him, but Fu just gave her a serene smile. 

“None of us live forever, my dear.” He patted her arm as he ambled off towards the kitchen, his age for once showing in his movements, and left her to ponder the guardian’s cryptic response.


	20. Chapter 19

Ladybug was freezing, and wondered for the millionth time why the miraculous magic stopped at temperature control. It was December, and while still temperate for the usual weather this time of year, it was nearly midnight and Ladybug could barely feel her fingers. This was not ideal when fingers were required for gripping things and a strong grip was essential when you swung from buildings holding only a magic yo-yo to keep you from being splat on the pavement. 

“I can go grab your jacket quickly?” Chat offered again, but she waved him off. The others would be here soon, and going all the way home would only waste time.

“It’s fine, Kitty. Just remind me next time.” He nodded, pulling her closer into his side and she savored the warmth.

Fu had suggested them patrolling together as much as possible. They hadn’t worked together in a long time, so it would be good practice if they were going to work in complete harmony to destroy the stone. Besides, all they could do was sit and wait for something to happen, so it was a welcome distraction.

Ladybug tried to look at the bright side. She’d missed these late-night runs with her friends. Even Adrien’s parents were coming, Fu deciding this was not the time for an ameteur to fill those positions. It would be fun to see them in action. 

Finally, Ladybug spotted Volpina floating over the horizon followed shortly by Queen Bee. One was holding an extra coat and the other had a thermos. Ladybug felt tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

“Have I told you how much I love you both?” She leaned forward to take the coat from Volpina.

“We know,” they answered, and all three of the chuckled.

“Seriously, Mari? You’ve been doing this longer than all of us.” Chat cleared his throat. “Than  _ most _ of us,” Volpina amended, rolling her eyes. “Bring. A. Jacket.”

“Okay,  _ mom _ . Sheesh,” she grumbled, but leaned over to kiss each of her friends’ cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Did someone say my name?” Adela joked as she came into view, having overheard Ladybug grumble at Volpina, and Ladybug laughed. She  _ was _ basically her second mother. The older Agrestes floated up, and Ladybug turned to look at Chat in delight, never having seen Hawkmoth’s wings in action, but Chat’s face was crimson under his mask and he was looking at his mother with a peculiar look. Adela smirked back, an expression that was disconcertingly similar to Chat’s smirk, but moved to greet them all. Ladybug gave Chat a questioning look, but he avoided her gaze.  _ Weirdo.. _

“Welcome! Hawkmoth and err…” She trailed off, realizing she never found out Adela’s miraculous name. 

“Paon, dear,” Adela--Paon supplied helpfully and Ladybug smiled her thanks.

Honu arrived not much later, and together again--this time with a few welcome additions--the heroes set out in a sprint across Paris. 

They didn’t find much crime other than some would-be muggers, so most of the night was spent sparring and generally getting comfortable working as a team again.

It had been so sporadic over the years. After the ‘defeat’ of Hawkmoth, there never was really a big battle to face, and they all tended to work in teams of whoever was available. Then they all went their separate ways, to university, on tour, aboard… Ladybug was realizing just how long it had been since they’d been together as a team.

She was standing off to the side, watching Volpina and Queen Bee face off in a mental battle only to have Adela brush by them and ruin their concentration as both girls dissolved into giggles.

“What are you thinking, Bugaboo?” Chat sidled up next to her, leaning on his baton and following her gaze.

“I’m just happy, which seems ridiculous because there’s a looming battle that we’re not really prepared for...but I am. We haven’t been together like this in a long time. It feels...right. I really missed this.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” he moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m happy, too.” She reached across to lace her fingers with his. “We’re always together in the way it counts. Besides, true friends...family,” he amended, “is never far away.”

______________________________________________________________________________

 

A few days later and Gabriel was exhausted. He hadn’t wielded his miraculous in many years, and even then, it was more a  _ sedentary _ use of power. He was lean for a man his age, but he was quickly realizing how out-of-shape he was. He remarked as much to Adela and she just smiled at him in amusement.

“Aww, Gabe. You’re not out of shape,” she looked at him lovingly, and he melted. Then humor flashed in her eyes. “You’re just old.” His jaw dropped and he reached to grab her, but she spun away.

“Old?!” He started to chase her through the halls, deliberately moving slower than his top speed, enjoying the sound of her laughter filling the home far too much to cut the chase short. 

Just when she started to turn the corner out of their living room, he flopped dramatically onto the couch.

“Ahh!” he cried in what was a horrible approximation of someone in true pain, but it got her attention and she shuffled back to the couch to look down at him with a concerned gaze.

“Gabe? What happ--” He reached up and grabbed her arm, pulling her down on top of him with a solid thud and locking her in his embrace. She lifted her head to look up at his face, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, her arms still pinned to his side.

“Who’s the old man now?” He grinned triumphantly down at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Still you, Gabe. “ She smirked and then dramatically sniffed his chest. “I can even smell the  _ moth- _ balls.”

He just stared at her, his arms loosening ever so slightly.

“Low blow, Dela.”

She just laughed at him, twisting out of his arms and standing. Turning to offer him a hand up, she smiled down at him.

“Adrien would have laughed,” she shrugged. “C’mon, grandpa. Help me make dinner before the kids get here.”

“We’re the same age,” he grumbled, accepting her hand and letting her drag him towards the kitchen.

 

Two hours later, a small black cat-god zipped through the Agreste kitchen and grazed Adela’s  glasses leaving them slightly askew in his mad dash to the cellar, where Gabriel kept a shockingly expensive supply of camembert. Gabriel met Nooro’s eyes, the two sharing an eye roll before his kwami was distracted by Tikki’s presence and the two went to follow Plagg before he gorged himself to death. 

“Papa! Maman! We’re here!” Adrien’s voice echoed through the foyer along with the rustling of fabric as they discarded their layers at the coat rack. Gabriel started to walk in their direction but stopped just short of the doorway when he heard their conversation.

_ “Ah ah ah! No touchy, blondie. This is  _ **my** _ umbrella.” _

_ “Yeah,  _ **now** _ it is. I remember only lending it to you.” _

_ “Nuh uh, don’t start with that. You gave it to me.” _

_ “You really need to let me buy you a new one. That thing is on its last leg, Mari.” _

_ “Then I will use it until it no longer functions and then frame it on our wall afterward. Maybe with a plaque to the commemorate the moment you gave it to me. The ‘ _ _ coup de foudre’ that started it all. _ _ But under no circumstances will you get rid of it. It’s  _ **historic.** ”

Gabriel popped his head out the kitchen, watching the two have this bizarre conversation.

“You’re ridiculous,” Adrien responded, shaking his head at her, but his face was tender as he watched her carefully set the umbrella against the coat rack.

“Hey,” she spun, her hair down and whipping around her neck. “That’s my line!” She jokingly glared at him and Gabriel saw Adrien’s hand move towards his pocket. Gabriel’s eyes widened guessing correctly that there was a ring there and he moved to pull his head out of the doorway. Turning to grab Adela, and hopefully get a better vantage point for what was about to happen, a black blur flew past his face and stopped him in his tracks. A second later, he heard a gravelly voice screech,  _ “Adrien! You’re missing this cheese!” _

He heard Marinette’s responding laugh.

“ _ C’mon, chaton.” _ She pulled him around the corner and almost barreled into Gabriel.

“Gabriel!”

“Hello, my dear. I was just coming to see what was taking you two so long.” He leaned down and kissed both her cheeks. “Adela could probably use some help with dessert,” he remarked and noticed how her eyes lit up. A fashion genius she may be, but she would always be a baker’s daughter. 

“Hey, Papa,” Adrien hugged his father and Gabriel fixed him with a questioning look when they broke apart.

“I thought you were going to wait?” He said once Marinette was well out of earshot, noticing that Adrien was in his own world and completely oblivious to the look he had been giving him.

“Oh, you saw that?” He reached up and rubbed the back of his head in his nervous gesture that he seemed to never grow out of. Gabriel hoped her never would. He looked so young when he did it; like his little boy.  “Yeah, I was, but I’m also not sure how to do it. A part of me wants it to be planned to a tee, but then another part of me wants it to be spontaneous.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I thought I’d be less nervous if I just decided to carry the ring and do it when it felt right instead of deciding a time and place and freaking out until then, but…” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Papa, I’m a mess.”

Gabriel chuckled at the boy.

“No grand gesture? Didn’t you learn your lesson when you asked her to move in with you?” He reminded his son. He and Adela had a good laugh when Adrien finally related that story to them. Adela had been wary of them moving in together, thinking they were too young, but she’d come around easily enough, and now she was impossibly excited for them to be married. Women were boggling.

“No, apparently that wasn’t about the _ grand gesture _ so much as it was about the  _ way _ I asked. It seemed too platonic and she worried that we weren’t on the same page...and that I was only asking because I felt like I  _ should _ ...as if I could ever not love her and ugh,” Adrien hung his head. “I completely understand where she was coming from--even if the idea of me falling out of love with her is impossible in my eyes--and I felt horrible for making her feel like  _ just a roommate _ . We’ve cleared that up now, and I think she’d like something spontaneous just as much as a grand gesture, but...” he looked up at his father then, breaking off his rambling. “I don’t even know. She keeps me on my toes.”

Gabriel laughed out loud then, his son’s words so closely echoing his thoughts.

“Then she’s the right woman.” He slung an arm around his son. “Come, let’s not keep our ladies waiting.”

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Mathys finally felt some tension release from his shoulders as his plane touched down in CDG. He’d tried to sleep a bit on the flight, but his mind kept returning to Chloé. Worrying, despite his knowing that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Physically, at least. She had a tendency to shut off her emotions when they became too much, and if the drunken voicemail he’d gotten was any indication, it meant she was more rattled than she was letting on and he’d wager a bet that she was hiding most of that from her friends. 

She still had an annoyingly endearing trait of pretending she was fine to be strong for others. She claimed it was because her feelings were no one else's business, but he’d seen her take the emotional brunt of situations more than once to spare those she loved. She’d done it for years when they were first together. She thought he was unaware, but he keenly realized what an odd pair they made. She was gorgeous by anyone’s standards. He was ...less attractive by even kind standards, and people didn’t hesitate to make their confusion at their relationship apparent on their faces. Chloé would stare them down when she though he wasn’t looking, and nothing would be said. He just left it at that. He knew she loved him. That was enough. Others were entitled to their opinions and inner thoughts, but frankly, he didn’t give a damn about them.  

What did bother him, was Chloé feeling like she had to fight the world alone. He understood. He would happily take on and army and shield her from it all if he could, but then that would leave them both fighting the world alone. What he really wanted was for her to share it with him. She was far too stubborn to let it go, and he wouldn’t love her so much if she relented easily, but she would share her burden, even if he had to take it forcibly from her shoulders.

He turned his phone back on as they started to disembark the plane. He had strangely enjoyed flying commercial for once, but he wouldn’t admit that to Chloé. She already teased him enough about his  _ life of luxury _ on his family’s jet. He’d left it in Iceland with the rest of his family, not informing them of his spur of the moment trip until he was already at the airport about to embark. They...didn’t understand his relationship with Chloé. They didn’t dislike her entirely, but they weren’t overtly supportive either, hoping not-so-secretly that he would get over his infatuation with Paris’s notorious ice queen.

He glanced down at her last message, the only response he got to his calls. 

_ Fine >:( _

He chuckled as he looked at it again. His family would never get it.  _ Icy _ as his love may appear to the world, she’d set the world on fire for the people she loved.

“So god damn stubborn,” he murmured to himself, slinging his his bag over his shoulder and his expression catching the attention of a passing flight attendant. He looked at the phone and smiled.

“Girl troubles?” The man gave Mathys a knowing look, and he was about to respond when he saw the man’s eyes flash unnaturally.  The man reached over, grabbing Mathys’ arm in a  bone-bruising grasp and started to drag him off the plane. By the time Mathys reacted to what was going on, the man was whispering in his ear, his voice somehow echoing despite its low tone and his close proximity.

“Either you come with me or I take Chloé instead.”

Ice formed in Mathys’ veins as he realized this had to do with what Chloé was talking about. 

“Yeah, good luck trying that, asshole.” He tried to wrangle out of the man’s grasp, but his hold was too strong, and Mathys had the strange feeling he was fighting against his own body as he tried to break free. He was shoved into a wheelchair waiting by the arrivals door and he watched in horror as the man morphed into a woman wearing a security uniform. She smiled sweetly at him before he felt a cold mist creep along his neck. He already was having trouble feeling his limbs and his vision started to go black.

“Shit…Chloé’s going to kill me,” he slurred and lost his grip on consciousness. 


	21. Chapter 20

They’d been patrolling and training every night for a week, and it was nearing the middle of December when Alya all but demanded a night off. The rest of them could use an actual night’s sleep, she claimed, and she hadn’t planned on being home for Christmas and was woefully underprepared in the gift department. Marinette had been to her house and saw the ridiculous pile of presents she brought back from abroad as evidence against this statement, but she wisely did not contradict her friend and relented to her demands. Besides, she could use a day of just sleep, too.

She was doing just that, curled up at Adrien’s side, head nestled near his ribs and leg slung over the back of his thighs as he sprawled like a starfish in their bed. He often teased her about her wonky sleeping positions, but it was warm completely submerged in the covers, and the steady beat of his heart thrummed through her, lulling her into a peaceful rest. At least, it would have been peaceful if someone would quit knocking on their door. 

“Nnngghhhh,” she rolled out of bed, letting herself slip slowly over the edge until her butt hit the ground. She lifted herself to a standing position, and made her way towards the door that was now singing “Mmmaaaarrriiiii!” in Alya’s horrible, tone-deaf approximation of a serenade.

“Alya, don’t wake the neighbors,” she grumbled once she opened the door.

“It’s noon, chickie. Get dressed, we’re having a girls day.” She brushed past  Marinette, who was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“You decent, lover boy?” Alya called as she walked towards the bed and plopped down next to Adrien without waiting for a response. Marinette just chuckled as the half-asleep boy reached over and ruffled Alya’s hair before cuddling into her side. Adrien had practically lived with them the first year of university. Privacy and personal boundaries had no place with the three anymore. It just would have been exhausting. 

Marinette moved to join the cuddle, but Alya pointed at her and she stopped.

“You. Dressed. Now,” she grabbed Adrien in a  headlock and started to give him a noogie, causing her boyfriend to squeal in a very manly high pitch squeak and break away. Sitting up, he gave her a ‘kitty’ pout to which Alya just rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep sunshine distracted,” she finished, her expression turing impish.

Adrien looked over to Marinette for help, but she put up her hands in surrender and backed out of the corner. She quickly grabbed jeans and a sweater and ran to the bathroom to wash her face.

“Traitor!” Adrien called after her, but whatever he said next was muffled by Alya smacking a pillow into his face. The sound of empty threats and dull thunks assured her that her betrayal was soon forgotten and the pillow battle had commenced. 

A few minutes later, she returned to a now dressed Adrien making coffee and Alya  lounging across the couch.

“Ready?” She jumped up and Marinette almost cringed at her energy.

“When did you become a morning person?”

“It’s noon,”Alya reminded her.

“Right, noon,” Marinette repeated with a yawn. “I’ll believe that more when I have caffeine.”

“Coffee on the way, c’mon chickadee!” Alya linked their arms and Marinette tried to keep up as they left the apartment. She looked at Adrien, but he just blew her a kiss and took a deliberately slow sip of his coffee. 

“Et tu, Adrien?”

“Have fun, Bugaboo!” she heard him call and chuckle before the door shut behind them and Alya heralded her into the traitorously bright sun.

 

After she was properly fueled with coffee and pastries thanks to a stop at the bakery, Marinette was fully awake and couldn’t remember the last time her heart was so full. She’d missed Alya more than she’d admitted to herself, and she tried not to think about the expiration date on this visit or the fact that after graduation, it was very unlikely that they’d end up living in the same city again. Possible, but unlikely. 

She honestly didn’t know how she’d survived the first fifteen years of her life before Alya moved to Paris. She’s always had friends, and throughout the years she had different groups that she considered her  _ best _ friends. Some of them she was still really close with, but she’d never had that one person who you were your complete, unfiltered self with until Alya. She was her person, and Marinette didn’t look forward not being able to just walk down the street and have her there. The last few months had been hard enough. 

They plopped on a bench, somehow ending up in the park outside their old lycée, and dropped their bags at their feet. Alya claimed that she only intended to window shop around the city and catch up, but then they passed a fabric store Marinette had never seen, and then a new secondhand bookshop...and here they were four hours later, exhausted, but giddy with purchases and plans of designs and new worlds to discover...

They sat in silence, Marinette leaning her head on Alya’s shoulder and tilting her face towards the sun, both already forgiven for their harsh wake-up this morning. 

“I think sunshine is going to propose,” Alya said suddenly, and it took Marinette a good minute and a half to process what had just come out of her best friend’s mouth.

“Wha--WHAT? HOW--Do you  _ know _ something? WHAT do you know? TELL ME!” She turned and grabbed Alya by the shoulders, shaking her slightly, much to her friend’s amusement. 

“I know nothing!” Alya laughed as Marinette dropped her hands and leaned back into the bench in shock. “I just have a feeling.”

“A  _ feeling _ or an Alya-reporter- _ gut _ feeling?” Marinette questioned, narrowing her eyes at Alya.

“The latter.”

“Oh my god, he’s going to propose,” she murmured to herself, accepting Alya’s appraisal without question. Her gut feelings were almost  _ never _ wrong. She turned to Alya then, more calm and smiling widely. “He’s going to propose!”

“I’m guessing that’s a yes then?” Alya quirked an eyebrow at Marinette, teasing, but the  shocked girl just sank dreamily back into the bench, staring across the grassy park in a daze.

“Adrien’s going to propose,” she smiled over at Alya, seeming incapable of other speech and felt herself tear up. 

“Probably,” Alya reminded. “I expect my maid of honor dress to be spectacular.”

“Maid or Matron?” Marinette quipped and Alya couldn’t contain her laugh. Marinette  had seen the looks between her and Nino recently, and more often than not saw them linked together in some way. 

“Oh, honey,” she patted Marinette’s head affectionately. “Look how long it’s taken sunshine. Our music man is a slow little turtle.” Alya joked and tried to brush off her implication, but Marinette wasn’t fooled. Those two were made for each other. It was only a matter of time. She also remembered how heartbroken Alya was when it ended, however amicable it was, so she didn’t push. Instead she leaned her head back on her best friend and gazed up at the trees, remembering the garden behind her and Adrien’s house. She imagined living there together, as husband and wife. 

_ He’s going to propose.  _

_ Probably... _

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Adrien laid on the bare parquet floors while Nino shuffled through songs, talking about everything and nothing and just catching up. Nino came back for visits every once in awhile, but it was usually only when he was passing through. Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he just sat and did nothing with his best friend. Everytime he was in Paris, they tried to make the most of his time, hitting up their favorite places, grabbing their favorite foods. Every visit was an occasion, as it should be, but Adrien missed doing  _ nothing _ with Nino. It was comfortable, listening to Nino splice music together. He drummed his fingers and beatboxed without even realizing he was doing it as the music played and Adrien let himself relax to the familiar noises of his friend. 

The sounds took him back to countless nights when they crashed on each other’s floor--usually Adrien’s because his parents were well aware of why the boys were out gallivanting around the city past midnight. Hawkmoth may have retired, but crime didn’t, and they all kept up regular patrols until university. Chat and Ladybug still tried to, and had amped up their patrols a lot recently at the request of Fu, but it still wasn’t as frequent as they probably should. If the past few nights were any indication, he doubted the others had been practicing their powers and keeping their stamina up…

“Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Adrien looked over and stuck his tongue out at Nino, who wasn’t even looking at him.

“Dude, seriously. I can hear you worrying from over here. It’s killing the vibe I’m laying down.”   

“Sorry,” Adrien muttered. A second later a throw pillow lived up to its name and pummeled into his face. He glared back at Nino, both of them regarding each other with a straight face, before Nino shrugged. 

“You were asking for it.  _ Sorry _ ,” he whined in a horrible approximation of Adrien and the latter snorted. “God, you’re apologizing to  _ me _ ? Something is up with you. Is it the stone of doom or the proposal?”   

“Ugh,” Adrien rolled over and pressed his face against the floor. “It was the stone, but now that you mention it…” Nino chuckled at him, turning his beats down to a background noise. 

“Why are you so nervous?” Nino looked at him seriously then. “I mean, you and Mari are the most solid couple I’ve ever met. It’s almost disgusting how perfect you are for each other, and you’ve lived together now and  _ still _ seem perfect. So what’s the deal? And don't,” he held up a hand, stopping Adrien’s quick response, “tell me you don’t know. Because I know you, and you’ve over-analyzed this. Am I right, Plagg?”

“Yup,” the black kwami zipped over their heads before hiding away again. Adrien sat up and narrowed his eyes at the traitorous god.

“I feel like that’s a breach of holder-kwami confidentiality,” he called after Plagg only to hear him snicker from his an Tikki’s corner. Adrien turned back to Nino, who was still watching the blonde with an expectant look on his face. Adrien sighed, and tried to put it all into words.

“It’s not that I’m afraid she’ll say no, though I’m not  _ assuming _ she’ll say yes--”

“She’ll say yes,” Nino interjected. “Continue.” He made a waving gesture with his hand.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.” Adrien laughed lightly, trying to collect his thoughts properly. Nino was right, as Plagg had been kind enough to confirm. He  _ had _ over-analyzed this, although he wasn’t completely on board with the qualification of  _ over _ . He’d just been thorough. 

“I just want it to be perfect,” he finally continued. “Growing up, everyone I knew had dreams of future careers. Chloé always wanted to be a lawyer, and every time I was on a forced playdate or ‘arranged socialization’,” Adrien watched Nino smirk as he described his life before he was allowed to join public school. “Everyone always knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, even if it was subject to change. Astronaut, Policeman, Teacher, Reporter, DJ.” He looked at his friend as he pantomimed spinning discs.

“And you?”

“I never really wanted to  _ be _ anything in particular. I guess that’s why I modeled for so long without much complaint and allowed my dad to put me in so many different extracurriculars. Modeling, piano, fencing, Chinese...It didn’t really matter. I enjoyed most of them well-enough, but it wasn’t like I was using them to work towards a particular goal. Now, I love physics, and think I would like to be a professor one day, but throughout it all, my answer to  _ What do you want to be? _ was always more along the lines of  _ What do you want to have? _ ”

He looked up then, but there was no judgement on Nino’s face, just calm support. Encouraging him to continue without pushing.

“I want a family,” Adrien said. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad. Find someone who was intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful, and  _ real. _ Someone who I could be completely myself with and settle down, have children, and just love them everyday. My childhood wasn’t ideal. I realize why now, but I spent a lot of time questioning why my father didn’t love me. My family now is so much closer, but that time in our history still existed and it cemented for me how lucky I am to have the relationship I do with them now. I want to make that with someone else, just without the middle part. I want to be a dad.”

“And Marinette is your something real.”

“Yeah. She’s more real than I ever dreamed she’d be. So I’m not afraid to spend the rest of my life with her, but I’m on the edge of having my deepest wish fulfilled, and it’s fantastic and nerve-wracking at the same time.”

He looked up to Nino then and swore he saw tears in his friend’s eyes.

“You deserve this, man.” He subtly wiped one of his eyes. “I love you so much, dude. Mari is going to say yes and you’re going to be the best dad.”

“I love you too, man.” He smiled a watery smile at Nino, and then laughed. “You’re going to be a bomb-ass uncle.”

“The favorite uncle,” Nino confirmed.

“Obviously,” Adrien responded, flopping back onto the floor. Nino turned his music back up and started playing with an arrangement of Train’s  _ Marry Me _ . Adrien gave him a sarcastic look.

“What? I’ve got to start getting ready for the reception.”

Adrien snorted, but then sat up straight when the door to the apartment burst open and a frazzled Chloé rushed towards them. It was the second time this week that he’d seen her like that, which was more than in the last 3 years combined.

“Chlo?” Adrien shot to his feet and she was suddenly in front of him, gripping his arms with a strength he didn’t know she had. Nino was up and at their side immediately.

“Chloé? Chlo, what is it?”

“Mathys. It has Mathys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is super dedicated to Mari_Poppins and to anyone else living the struggle of having best friends that live ridiculously far away


	22. Chapter 21

“You know what? I’m really getting sick of this kidnapping theme,” Alya paced angrily around the room. 

They had gathered in the Dupain-Cheng house, Adrien having sent out the metaphorical bat signal to them almost immediately after he managed to get the story of what had happened out of Chloé. Now they gathered and she told it again, considerably more composed, but obviously still shaken.

“Why was he even in Paris? I thought he was living in Germany this year!” Alya threw her hands up in exasperation, and Chloé’s face turned hard.

“He was coming to check on me, and excuse me? But this is not his fault.  _ He  _  isn’t the one going around and terrorizing people.” She retorted but then darted a quick glance towards Jo, who looked immensely more comfortable in the homey apartment than she had in Fu’s sparse abode the first time they’d met. “Not you, the stone,” Chloé explained, waving a hand in her direction, but Jo just nodded, not taking offense. 

“No, I know, it’s just… arrghh.” Alya plopped down onto the couch next to Sabine, and the woman wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I’m just pissed.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling well.” Chloé muttered, her expression of desperate sadness had been left behind at Adrien and Marinette’s apartment and now there was murder in her eyes.

“What did it say exactly? What does it want?”

“What do they always want? Our miraculous,” Chloé saw Gabriel flinch out of the corner of her eye and she gave him an apologetic glance before turning back and finishing the rest of Alya’s question. “It was some random woman in a security officer’s uniform, but...she looked off.”

“Possessed?” Adrien asked.

“Possibly,” Chloé responded. “She said, ‘Don’t try and fight. He’ll regret it.’ and then handed me this.” She opened her palm to show them the ring she had been clutching in her hand since the encounter. It was gold with an amber stone overlain with a family crest. “It was his grandfather's,” Chloé explained. “He would never have taken it off himself.”

“But did she say  _ how _ you were supposed to give up your miraculous? Like, a time or place?” Everyone else was staring sadly at the ring. They’d gotten to know Mathys pretty well over the years, and were all shocked when she announced it was over. No explanation, just that. Alya was affected too, but this was not the time for those emotions. She focused in on Chloé, refusing to feel any sadness or pity. It wasn’t helpful, and Chloé wouldn’t appreciate it.

“No. I’m assuming it will...be in touch.” She looked at Alya with an intensity and Alya knew she was trying to block out the stares of everyone else in the room. Alya, for her part, sunk back into the couch and let her mind tumble through theories and possibilities. Subconsciously, she was grateful for everyone’s use of the pronoun  _ it _ to refer to the stone. The thing wasn’t natural, and everytime one of them referred to it as  _ he  _ or  _ she _ , it freaked her out even more. It may have some bastardization of a consciousness right now, but it was not human, just mortal enough to be killed.

“Alya, now would be a really great time for you to say ‘Let’s make a plan!’, ” Chloé broke her out of her thoughts and Alya looked up into her pale face. 

“I’m sorry, Chlo. The only thing I can think to do is wait.” She was ready for Chloé’s anger, what she wasn’t expecting was the desolation on her face. 

“It’ll be soon,” Jo spoke up from the armchair and it seemed like every head in the room suddenly whipped to look at her. To her credit, she didn’t so much as flinch, though she did look surprised by her own comment.

“Why do you say that, Jo?” Alya looked at her like a new person. She’d seemed so broken a few days ago, but getting everything off her chest, including her connection to Nino, seemed to have revived her. It was like another woman sat before them, and Alya realized how much the stone had dented her armor. Because she had an armor, of that much Alya was completely sure. Jo was careful not to give too much information about herself, but from bits and pieces of conversations Alya had heard between her and the others while they waited for everyone to arrive, she had gleaned that Jo lived in London now, but was from a small village originally. She artfully dodged the question of exactly where, but from her coloring, accent, and her references to her faith when talking to Nino, Alya had it narrowed down to northern Africa.  _ Maybe _ somewhere in the middle east, but unlikely. Alya could only begin to imagine what had happened to her that made her eyes as sad as they were, while making her resolve as strong.  Alya was not looking forward to battling whatever had almost taken down the warrior sitting before her, miraculous powers or not. 

“It...Just, when it was in my head,” Jo finally answered. “I got the distinct impression that patience was not one of its virtues.” She looked over at Chloé apologetically and Alya did the same.

“That is so not comforting,” Chloé dropped her head to her hands and groaned. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

So they waited. They all worried, Chloé more than anyone for obvious reasons, but they all tried to be supportive. The Agrestes were the only ones who remotely understood the feeling, but even then, at least Adela had been kidnapped by a human, with emotions and a degree of predictability. This thing was...other, and therefore a complete mystery. They couldn’t prepare for what they didn’t know. That didn’t mean they didn’t try, and Marinette was adamant about increasing their efforts to practice their skills.

Every night they gathered and spent an hour or two patrolling and practicing different scenarios that Alya had imagined up. It’d been a week since they first learned of Mathys’ capture, and while Chloé drew more and more into herself, Marinette worked herself harder and harder. They were done for the semester, and with their added free time, Marinette was determined to be prepared for any situation. She was also determined to not let Chloé disassociate completely from the team and sit alone in her room until they figured out a plan to rescue Mathys and end this insanity. Chloé with a purpose was a force to be reckoned with. Chloé trying to be patient was...cause for concern. More often than not, outside of their usual patrol, Queen Bee and Ladybug were still out and flying over the city.

By the end of the week, Marinette was exhausted. Between the night patrols, Christmas shopping, spending as much time as she could with Alya and Nino while they were in town, and trying to keep Chloé from  going crazy, Marinette felt like death. She continued on, though, because her friends needed her. Until Friday night, that was.

She arrived at the rooftop she and Queen Bee always met at. It was noon but Marinette was still somehow only running on 3 hours of sleep. She’d spent the morning with her parents, helping them with some large holiday orders at the bakery. Then she stopped over at the Agrestes to talk to Adela about the Christmas party they were throwing and to give her the cape she made--an early Christmas present, so she could wear it to a fashion gala coming up and brag about Marinette’s designs.  After what felt like forever, she finally made it home and collapsed in bed next to her boyfriend who was still sleeping. _ Jerk _ . But she had twenty minutes of bliss with her pillow before she realized the time and was up again to meet Chloé. 

And that was only today’s schedule. The past week hadn’t left much downtime either. So, it was completely understandable that when she arrived for their extra patrol, Queen Bee just looked at her like she’d come back from the dead.

“You look like shit,” Queen Bee remarked, glancing Ladybug up and down.

“And you’re a ray of sunshine yourself, thanks.” Ladybug rolled her eyes, but gratefully took a seat next to her friend on the edge of the roof.

“How many hours are you working on?”

“Enough,” Ladybug snapped, but added in a softer voice. “I’m sure it’s more than you.”

Queen Bee gave her a sarcastic look.

“That’s nothing to be proud of. Besides, I rest. I just can’t...sleep right now.” She sighed, and looked out towards the city. “You need to stop doing this to yourself. You always do this.”

“What do I  _ always _ do?”

“You wear yourself too thin. You spend so much energy making sure everyone else is okay--mentally, emotionally, physically--and you forget about yourself. You don’t care if you drive yourself into the ground as long as the rest of us are okay.” She looked over at Ladybug. “It makes you a great friend, but it also makes your friends worry. Stop being such a good person, and take care of yourself!”

“You’re not much better right now,” Ladybug grumbled and Queen Bee rolled her eyes.

“Please. I know my flaws, and failing to take care of myself is not one of them. Right now...well, I’m stressed, and I’m dealing with it. You’ve helped keep me sane, and I love you for it, but this isn’t about me right now.” Her face twisted into a smile. “Or maybe it is.  _ I need _ you to take a break. Okay? That would help me. I would feel better knowing you’re not going to swing off a building somewhere and plummet to your death because you fell asleep mi-jump.”

“I will. Once we have Mathys, and this is over--”

“No, now. You need to sleep, Mari. Sleep. Eat. Go spend time with that ridiculous blonde boy.”

She started to dream about her plush green comforter and feather stuffed pillow.

“Go,” Queen Bee repeated. Ladybug looked at her.

“ _ I need _ you to be okay too, Chlo.” She whispered.

“I will be. We’ll find him, and I will be. Now go!” She stood up, pulling Ladybug with her. “I officially cancel this patrol. I promise to go sleep and eat if you do.” She flicked one of her pigtails and Ladybug retaliated by mussing her short bob into her face.

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you, too!” Ladybug voice drifted through the wind as she swung away.

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Queen Bee stood, watching her go before she pulled out the note she had in her pocket. She’d intended to  talk to Ladybug about it, but one look at her state and Queen Bee knew she couldn’t do that to her friend. She was in no condition right now. She needed a break from worrying.

She turned and set off in another direction. She needed Alya.


	23. Chapter 22

Nino was in hell. He’d spent most of the last week trying to have the reverse of Alya’s schedule and occupy himself when he knew she'd be home. For the first few days, living with Alya was fine. He was out of Adrinette’s hair, and with everything being stressful and crazy, Alya was was his comfort, the eye in the storm that currently surrounded them. But now they were in a lull, waiting to see what happened next, and it was...challenging.

When they were with everyone else, it was fine. Plenty of distraction to keep Nino from  _ thinking _ too much. But the last few days they’d been alone, and being so close to her but not really being a  _ with _ her was taking its toll on him, confusing whatever resolve he'd built up in the time since they “broke up”. To say he was never really on board with that would be an understatement, but he understood it. He was gone so much, and Alya needed to focus on her intensive program. Then she went away too... Their relationship had become a source of unnecessary stress and heartache for both of them, which was something he never wanted for her. 

But just because they weren't technically together, didn't mean what Nino felt had become any less potent. If anything, he was living proof that absence  _ does  _ make the heart grow fonder, though he had no doubt that he’d fall in love with her more and more each day whether they were together or not. That was the problem. He felt too much, and she wasn't his to feel these things for. Not anymore. Yes, they'd fallen into old habits the last week. Waking up with Alya cuddled into his side was not something he would soon forget, but it couldn't last. All the old reasons for breaking things off still existed and she'd given no indication of wanting to pick up where they left off. Nino couldn't let himself get his hopes up. 

Yet, despite his best efforts and avoidance techniques, they ended up together and alone. All. Day. He’d been mostly successful at keeping things platonic, but then he was only half of this equation. 

And by about noon, he found himself standing frozen in Alya’s family kitchen, his hand half-raised towards the cupboard. Jaw dropping, his mind replayed  what had just slipped out of her mouth on repeat and he started letting himself do exactly what he shouldn’t: hope. 

He said he’d try not to love her. He never said he’d be good at it. 

They’d been working side by side, him on some new mixes and her on repurposing her school assignments for her blog. It was so familiar. It was everything he wanted, and everything he couldn’t have, sitting just a few inches away.  He’d gotten up to grab a glass of water, trying to work out the tension he felt just sitting next to her when her voice called from behind him. 

_ “Mack, could you get me water, too?” _

_ Mack _ . He’d frozen immediately. Alya was the queen of terms of endearment and nicknames, but she had  _ very deliberately _ not called him any for over a year. Especially not  _ Mack _ . True, he’d hated the nickname at first. He thought it sounded stupid. There weren’t great pet names related to turtles, but couldn’t she have chosen TMNT if she wanted a cutesy nickname? Did it have to be from  _ Yertle the Turtle? _ But then Alya explained to him the meaning and that he was her  _ Mack _ , her reluctant hero, and he loved that nickname. It was something she only ever called them when they were alone. It was the name she used when she told him she loved him for the first time. It was the name she used when she told him she loved him for the last time. She hadn’t said it since.

Until now. Until she asked him for something as mundane as a glass of water. As if she never stopped  _ thinking _ of him under that name. That ridiculous, wonderful name.

He turned slowly, as if afraid to startle her.  _ Did she realize what she’d just said? _ He looked over at the couch and saw her turning just as slowly as he was. Their eyes met.

A part of him could see it now. He would whisper out her name, voice hoarse with emotion, and she would bolt to her feet, laptop sliding to the floor in abandon and run into his arms, begging him to never let her go again. She wouldn’t have to plead much, because he would have no intention of ever making the same mistake twice and would kiss her with a fervor until they were dazed and breathless.

But that wasn’t real life. In reality, he watched as Alya broke eye contact, saved what she was working on, and closed the computer. In reality, he watched her, hardly daring to breathe as she stood up and slowly faced him. In reality,  _ he _ strode towards  _ her _ , but stopped just short of her body. She looked up at him then and he raised a hand to her cheek. She lifted her own hand to hold it closer to her face as she  leaned towards him.

“Alya,” he whispered, a declaration and a question at the same time.

“Mack,” she responded, her eye starting to swim a bit behind her glasses. He reached up and took them off, placing both their glasses on the coffee table and leaning his forehead against hers, still waiting for her answer. Then, all that they’d been avoiding in the chaos of their situation, finally bubbled to the surface and Alya spoke.

“I don’t know,” she responded dejected. “These last few days...I know I’ve been..but I just don’t know.” She shifted her head to look up at him, noses brushing past each other. “It’s too much. I feel...too much. I can’t be so far away, and have you so far away, and feel this...hollow.” Alya broke away then, and started pacing. Nino knew better than to stop her discharge of energy, so he just watched.

“Do you know what the first thing I did when I went to pick my abroad locations?” She glanced over at him as she pivoted. He knew, of course. They’d had this conversation before. It was  _ the talk _ that spelled the end for them. He wasn’t likely to forget it in his lifetime. He just nodded before she continued. “I checked your schedule. I looked at  _ your _ DJ schedule to see what region you would be in the most. Where would I be able to see you the most.”

He opene his mouth the respond, but just like last time, she cut him off.

“And you never asked that.  _ I know that _ . You never would. You’re a good man, Nino. I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t. You would never ask me to change my dreams to fit yours, and I would never ask that of you either.”

Nino noticed that she still said love in the present tense, but he tried to internalize his elation for a more appropriate moment. She stopped pacing.

“But I did it anyway, and I can’t do that right now. I still can’t do that. I can’t love you the way I want to love you--the only way I know how to love you--and still chase my calling. I’m going to places I never dreamed of, Nino. And it’s wonderful, and heartbreaking, and  challenging, and life-changing. I finally feel like I’m becoming who I was born to be, and I can’t love you how you deserve to be loved while I become her.”

Alya was crying outright now. It wasn’t the weeping sobs of most people, but a steady soundless stream from her eyes. Alya’s passion burned silently, but white hot. By the time you felt her flame, you were smoke in the wind. Nino was a goner from the moment she walked into that panther cage with him and he knew he’d wait for her until the end of time. She’d never ask it of him, and he’d never expect her to do the same, but his heart was only full when he was sharing it with her.  

He walked towards the apparition of her in his unfocused gaze, relying on the sheer magnetism of her being more than his faulty eyesight and cradled her head his his hands. She leaned into him, grabbing his shirt and burrowing her face into his neck, taking heaving breaths of his scent. 

“I know,” he simply responded, threading his fingers through her hair at the base of her neck and rubbing soothing circles in scalp.

“I’m so sorry. Nino, I--I love--”

“Shhh,” he hushed her. Nothing had changed, and if he heard her say the words, he wouldn’t be able to let her go a second time. She had made her decision, but she was vulnerable right now. He knew that if he wanted to, he could change her mind, make her doubt all the hard-won resolve she’d built up. But he wouldn’t do that. She’d made her choice, and he’d respect it. Instead, he stooped down and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Walking to the bedroom, he pulled back the duvet and deposited her on the bed. She was still in pajamas, so he just took off his shirt and climbed in next to her. Without a word, she half-laid across him, her ear resting just above his heart on his naked chest.

_ Her heart _ , he mentally corrected himself. She wasn’t ready now, but it’d be there waiting when she was.

His heart was hers. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

After far too long berating herself for her choice and mentally arguing both sides of the debate for the millionth time, Alya finally allowed Nino’s familiar heartbeat to silence her brain and lull her to sleep. Unfortunately, that peace was interrupted about an hour later. Fortunately, it was by something that would definitely bring her out of her self-despair. Chloé. There was nothing like someone else’s misery to slap you out of your own self-pity.

They were awakened just as the last vestiges of sunlight slipped below the horizon by a loud banging noise. Opening her eyes, half blind without her glasses and even more sightless in the shadowy apartment, Alya looked around in the befuddlement of disturbed slumber.  The banging continued and her pillow rolled off the bed and started to make his way towards the front door. Then Alya’s brain kicked in and she realized the sound was coming from the window to the fire escape.  Forcing herself out of the cocoon of blankets that still clung to Nino’s warmth, she padded over, ready to berate whichever one of her miraculous friends dared disturb her sleep. Then she saw Queen Bee’s face, and zipped her lips closed. A explosive mixture of anger, desperation and determination fought for dominance in her expression, and Alya opened the window to let her in without a word. She heard the front door open and close and then a confused Nino returned to the living room, his face finally waking up to realize what was going on around him.

“Lights,” Alay grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and trying to mentally prepare for the bomb she could tell Chloé was about to drop.

“Stripes off,” Chloé choked out and Alya picked up on another emotion. Grief.

“Chloé?” She tried gently, lifting a hand to touch her shoulder and suddenly Chloé’s composure disintegrated and the blonde plowed into Alya, wrapping her arms tightly around the taller girl and burying her face in her chest. Alya’s reaction was instantaneous, holding Chloé tightly and cradling the back of her head. They were close, but even so, Alya had never been in the situation where she’d had to comfort her usually-stoic friend. Chloé and Marinette had become much closer, and Alya was surprised that Chloé had come to her for comfort, but she didn’t hesitate in her response. Someone she loved was in distress, and she went into full-mom mode, making soothing noises and combing her fingers through Chloé’s hair as she shuffled them towards the couch. She shot a look at Nino and he went to the kitchen to make tea and put a shirt on as Alya held Chloé tighter.

“Chlo, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen to Mathys?”

By the time they made it to the couch, Chloé’s death grip had loosened and her tears had ceased. She took calming breaths trying to compose herself and wiped her eyes. Alya noticed that for the first time in recent memory, Chloé was wearing no makeup and in that moment she looked so young and vulnerable it broke Alya’s heart. She was always so independent, never letting others share her pain, but right now, as she came to her reaching out for help, Alya had never witnessed her strength more. 

“Sorry,” Chloé huffed, sounding much more like herself. She wiped away the last few errant tears and gave a humorous laugh, seeming almost embarrassed that she indulged in Alya’s maternal comfort for a moment. “I thought I had myself under control, but apparently not.” Chloé composed her face back into its usual steel mask, and Alya was sad to see her go.

“Chlo, you don’t need to put on a show for me.” Alya remarked softly, still holding her hand and Chloé gave her a sad smile.

“Who said it’s for you?”

With that innocuous comment, a puzzle piece fell into place, and an elusive facet of Chloé’s personality finally made sense to Alya. She always knew that Chloé’s indifference and abrasive honesty was her way of keeping people at a distance and protecting herself, but it finally clicked for her  _ why _ Chloé felt the need for those barriers.

They always marveled at how Adrien had survived his tumultuous childhood, but Chloé’s hadn’t been a walk in the park either; she just dealt with it differently.  She’d been in the public spotlight and criticism far longer than Adrien, subject to a form a scrutiny that women of a far wiser age crumbled under. She lost her mother at a young age without any hope of seeing her again, leaving her only with the cruel imaginations at every stage in life of what wisdom her mother would depart if only she’d had more time on this earth. 

Then, despite the careful protection she’d built around her heart, she found out the one man who she trusted and loved more than anyone had lied to her for her entire life and wasn’t her biological father. She claimed it didn’t make a difference, and Alya believed her, but it was bound to give a girl some trust issues. 

Now, when she finally broke down and let someone truly into her heart, someone who finally saw her for who she really was and loved her  _ because of _ it, she breaks up with him to protect him from herself and the baggage that follows her. Despite that, he’s still taken and used as leverage against her.  

Alya looked over at Nino as he walked in carefully balancing a tray of tea and her heart clenched realizing how similar her and Chloé were in some ways. If anything happened to him...there was no protecting her heart from that blow. 

He set down the tray, carefully pouring each of them a cup, before handing them to both the girls. Chloé accepted it with thanks and curled up into the plush sofa, seeming to collect her thoughts. Alya watched as Nino choose the armchair across from them instead of the spot next to her on the couch and tried not to read too much into it. Nino had to protect his heart as much as she did. She focused in Chloé instead.

“I got...further motivation today,” Chloé finally says, and with one look at Chloé’s face, Alya decided she definitely did not want to ask what the motivation was that had her in such a state. “And further instruction, too.”

“What? We need to call the others--”

“No,” Chloé broke her off. “I mean, yes, but not right now.  Have you seen Marinette lately? I was just with her, and I was going to tell her, but…”

“She’s working herself into the ground again,” Ayla nodded, remembering the intensity Marinette had when they faced Germain and knowing her friend tended to assume more than her share of responsibility in times of crisis. It made her a great superhero and leader in an emergency, but when the threat was prolonged like this...Marinette tended to forget that she was only human and needed to sleep and eat too.

“Exactly. I managed to convince her to go home to cat-boy, but I couldn’t dump this on her. Not yet.” Chloé relaxed back into the seat cushion and Alya realized her and Marinette were much more similar than either of them would admit, too. They were both were so willing to sacrifice their own piece of mind to protect someone they loved.

“Okay, so we won’t tell them yet, but what can I do then?” 

“I need your research. I managed to send a note back with the...messenger  _ it _ sent and agreed to meet tomorrow. But,” she continued, cutting off Alya’s exclamation that a day wasn’t nearly enough time. “I said to bring Mathys for the trade or it was no deal.”

“You would trade your miraculous for him?” Alya asked softly.

“Yes,” Chloé answered without hesitation. “But I’m not going to. Defeating this son of a bitch apparently is going to take the combination of  _ all _ our miraculous and besides, Mathys wouldn’t want me to give a dangerous entity more power just to save his life.  _ Stubborn selfless ass…”  _ She looked towards the window, muttering the last part under her breath and Alya looked at Nino, knowing she would do the same for him, much to his same reaction.

“So, what’s your plan, then?” Nino leaned forward, setting his tea on the coffee table.

“I’m going to meet this thing and hopefully Mathys will be there. We need to find some information that we can give him. I won’t be trading my miraculous, so the best I can hope for is to get a message to Mathys.”

“Okay, but--and I hate to point this out--but when you don’t give it what it wants--” 

“Oh my god, just call it  _ the stone _ , all this  _ it _ bullshit is spinning my head in circles.”

“Fine, when you don’t give the stone what it wants, what’s to stop the stone from just...killing Mathys?”

“That’s why I need a distraction. I think it’s time our resident villain got back in the game.”

Chloé and Alya shared a conspiratorial smirk.

“Alright,” Nino clapped his hand. “I guess it’s research time then. But if we’re going to pull an all-nighter, I’m ordering take-out.”

Alya smiled over at him as she and Chloé went to get her notes in the other room.

 

Nino watched them leave, and then turned to grab his phone and keys to the apartment. Grabbing a jacket, he walked out the door with a mission to get food and maybe some reinforcements too.

It was time to pay Fu another visit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it has come to my attention that not everyone has read Yertle the Turtle, here it is (http://www.spunk.org/texts/prose/sp000212.txt) --I was the dictatorial yertle in seussical in my drama club days ~jazz hands~ though Mack's subtle resistance in the actual story has always had a fond place in my heart


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So we only have 7 chapters and an epilogue left :( I'll be going away all next week, but the good news for you all? This means ALL the remaining chapters will be going up in the next few days :D

Nino knocked on the door to the small apartment before grabbing his key and letting himself in. The others knew he was the closest to the miraculous guardian, but he knew they were all wary of the mystic man. Nino, on the other hand, regarded him as more of a cryptic grandfather, with a surprisingly dry sense of humor and strange affinity for hip-hop music. 

“Sit down, the coffee is almost ready,” a voice called from the kitchen, somehow knowing who it was, and Nino didn’t even bother feeling shocked. He’d gotten far too used to Fu’s sixth sense.

“Coffee?” he called back, watching fondly as Wayzz zipped happily around his old home.

“Well, if you’re going to have a long night, you need something a bit stronger than tea.”

Nino took his earlier declaration back. The old man could still shock him.

“Are you ever going to explain to me how you just...know things?” Nino asked, preparing himself for the answer that he always got:  _ One day _ .

“Yes,” Fu said instead. “I think it may be time.”

Nino almost dropped his coffee, and Wayzz zoomed back over, and bittersweet look on his face. 

“Wait, what?” he tried to wipe the coffee spittle off his chin, but didn’t break eye contact with Fu.

“Why don’t we talk about why you’re here first?” He answered calmly, and Nino took a deep breath.  _ Right. Mathys. Concentrate. _

“You are  _ so _ not evading that statement for long, though. Not all of us live forever.” He joked but still watched as Master Fu’s face fell almost imperceptibly. It was a strange microexpression. A mixture of sadness and relief.

“Not forever. Just for long enough. Now, you had a question?”

“Yeah,” Nino cleared his throat, trying to dislodge to lump of sadness that started to bubble up at Master Fu’s simple words. 

He started to relay to Fu what had happened that night. He’d been keeping him up to date on what was happening with Mathys, and Jo was still staying here, so she was doing the same. He cringed thinking about Jo and his eyes darted to the door that led to the guest bedroom. She hadn’t brought up the whole  _ dead brother _ thing again, and luckily everytime he saw her it was in a large group, but it still...freaked him out a bit. He transformed into a time-stopping turtle and was friends with a seemingly immortal chinese man, but for some reason the thought of incarnation was what weirded him out. He never claimed to be logical.

“Or , perhaps, there is something else you’d like to talk about first?” Fu edged around the question and Nino rolled his eyes.

“Of course you know,” he muttered.

“Know what?’ Fu smiled playfully.

“Everything.”

“Ah, well, then maybe I should be charging you as we just sit in silence and stare at each other more. What is the going rate for consultation of omniscient beings these days?”

Nino gave him a sarcastic look and Fu chuckled, before his gaze softened.

“She did not mean to frighten you with her comment, but I am curious about your reaction. Despite my  _ sixth sense _ as you call it, I would not have predicted your discomfort with this.”

“She thinks I’m her dead brother, Fu. That’s pretty heavy. And I’m not,” He took a sip of his coffee and fiddled with the handle to the mug, uncomfortable even talking about it.

“She says she recognizes his soul in you, not that you  _ are _ him. You have been with me long enough to recognize the intricacies of meaning. There are some things that are not explained by this world.”

“I know,” he huffed, and he did know. He spent more time with Fu than he even admitted to the others. The miraculous fascinated him beyond just their ability to give their wielders powers, and from the very beginning he wanted to know all there was to know. He’d spent countless afternoons in lycée coming to see Fu and would just barrage him with questions. Through it all, he’d become well versed in all things mystical. More than once, they’d diverged into conversations about different beliefs around the world and how, sometimes, there were things that science just couldn’t explain. There were too many cultures spread geographically too far from each other that somehow had the same description of inexplicable phenomena and spiritual practices. Maybe the miraculous weren’t magical, maybe they were just remnants of a world we tried to ignore in favor of ‘science’.

Nino knew there were plenty of people who believed in reincarnation. It came in different forms across the globe, but the continuation of the soul after death was a theme that touched most religions. He didn’t know why he was so uncomfortable with it. Unless...unless a part of him thought maybe Jo was right.

“You’ve always had perception beyond your years. An aversion to violence to a degree that is uncommon of someone so young who has lived a relatively peaceful life…” Fu picked up on the direction of his thoughts.

“I just don’t want to be anyone but me,” Nino looked up at his friend vulnerably.

“You have always been who you are and will always be who you are. Whether you accept that you soul has existed before your corporal body, and will continue past it as well, is irrelevant. Nothing has changed.”

“Knowledge changes everything,” Nino responded instantly, knowing that Fu was trying to comfort him but disagreeing with his last statement. It was true, he was the same person, but getting some insight to a potential past life was not something he would take lightly. It still felt strange, and he didn’t know if he was completely convinced, but if it gave Jo some comfort, then he could live with it. Besides, if Alya’s deduction was right and Jo’s brother died protecting his family somehow, then he was honored to share his soul.

“You’re right. It does,” Master Fu allowed his expression to slip into the fond smile, the one that made Nino feel like he’d somehow just passed a test he didn’t know he’d been taking. He didn’t feel like they resolved anything, but he still somehow felt better, more at peace with what Jo had said to him.

“Now,” Fu continued, moving back to the reason for Nino’s visit. “Let’s take a look at my records and see if we can’t find you those other answers you were looking for.”

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Adrien woke up around seven, surprised to see the darkened sky through the window indicating that he’d literally slept the entire day away, but more pleasantly surprised to find another body in bed with him. She’d picked a new formation--flopped on her stomach, legs straight and arms at her side, and not at all curled into his side as she usually was. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, rectifying  _ that _ situation swiftly and rolling over so he was half-sprawled on top of her, his nose nestling into the crook of her neck.  

“Mmphh,” Marinette groaned, turning her head towards him and he removed some of his weight so she could turn into his chest. Her arm snaked around his waist and her face settled into a sleepy smile that made his heart beat faster.

“Bugaboo,” he started to pepper kisses along her forehead and nose, but her mouth dropped into a pout.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Kitty,” she turned away from him and cuddled her pillow instead. “But I was sleeping.”

He scooched closer to her and sat up. Slowly, he started to walk his fingers up her side.

“But I’m awake  _ now _ ,” he whispered loudly. When she didn’t respond, he started to play with one of her pigtails, watching as if fell back into place every time he flicked it. He was so mesmerized by the action he didn’t notice immediately that she had opened her eyes and was now glaring at him.

“You do realize you’re not an actual cat, don’t you?”

“ _ Mew _ wound me. I  _ meow _ what I am.”

“Those were horrible.” She grumbled, not looking at him anymore.

“I love  _ mew _ ,” he laid his chin on her shoulder and waited for her to look at him. Finally, she sighed.

“Ugh, I’m awake now. It’s a good thing I love you too, you needy kitty.” She pushed his head off her shoulder with a finger on his nose and rolled to get out of bed. She started to pad to the other side of the room.

“Where are you going?” he whined.

“To the kitchen to make us food. Think you can handle the separation anxiety, chaton?”

“Uh, absolutely not,” he responded immediately and scrambled to follow her as he heard her laugh. Then he paused, looking at his sock drawer in contemplation and then back towards where Marinette had walked off to. The ring sat in a bundle of red socks with black polka dots. He thought it was a funny place to hide it, but now everytime he sees Marinette transformed, all he can think about is the ring sitting heavily in his sock drawer. Not that it was any different than any other day. It was constantly on his mind, the never ending search for the  _ right _ moment. 

“Adrien?” Marinette popped her head back around the bookshelf that separated their bedroom from the rest of the apartment and he jumped. 

“Are you going to make me sous chef too?” She raised and eyebrow at him and he tried to make his expression innocent. Apparently it had the opposite effect and she raised her other eyebrow to match. Her eyes darted to their dresser, but thankfully she didn’t ask any questions.

“Stop looking so suspicious and come help me.”

She turned and this time he followed her without hesitation. It wasn’t the time. Not yet.


	25. Chapter 24

Chloé looked at her watch, waiting until exactly eight o’clock to wake up the love birds. She wanted Marinette to get some sleep, but they had problems to address, and that was as long as she was willing to wait. 

When Nino had finally gotten back the night before, they spent the entire night combing through Alya’s research and obscure internet legends looking for references to the stone. No one had connected it the stone legend to the miraculous, and despite the delay, Chloé was grateful that Nino had thought to stop and get some reference material from Fu. Without it, they’d probably have nothing. 

She looked down at Mathys’ ring on her finger, and her patience was spent. Knocking on the door loudly, she waited a few precious seconds before grabbing her key and letting herself in. If they didn’t like it, it was their fault for giving them all keys to their apartment. 

She walked in prepared to drag them bodily from bed if need be only to find them both sitting on the couch, eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Marinette motioned to a plate on the coffee table which held a lemon danish for her and an extra cup of coffee next to the pot. She just stared in shock.

“Please, you think I wasn’t getting updates from Alya?”

“I told you to sleep,” Chloé managed.

“Yeah, and I told  _ you _ to sleep. I at least followed instructions for a little bit. Now sit, eat. Alya went dark on me around 2 am, refusing to keep me up any longer. What did you find?” 

“No one listens to me,” Chloé grumbled, but plopped down in the chair and munched on her pastry. Tom really did make the best in Paris, and he’d even used the dough infused with lavender like she liked.

“Chloé?” Adrien brought her out of her pastry heaven, but he handed her a cup of coffee, so he was forgiven.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, not much at first. We didn’t find out much at first,” she clarified, her mouth finally catching up with her brain. “But Nino thought to go to Fu, and we found some things in the books he brought us…”

She told an overly detailed version of what they'd discovered, fully aware that she was stalling for time as she withheld the main story. Her eyes kept returning to Adrien. His face open and hopeful...and trusting. It made her heart clench when she thought about what they had to ask him to do. What he would undoubtedly agree to do because he was a good person with horrible self-preservation skills when it came to doing ‘the right thing’.

“Chlo?” Marinette cut her off after she’d been giving a detailed description of one of the books for too long. “While your attention to detail is astonishing, and your talkative mood a welcome surprise, stop stalling. What aren’t you telling us?”

Chloé cringed and changed tactics. Brutal honesty it was.

“I was contacted by the stone and have a plan to meet it tonight to exchange my miraculous for Mathys.” She held up a hand to stop Adrien’s outraged protest. “Of course, I’m not going to do that. I am going to meet, try to get a message to Mathys and just make sure he’s alright in general, and then Hawkmoth will have a nice akuma attack as distraction--”

“Letting us plan a meeting for another day,” Marinette nodded, picking up on the line of her thoughts.

“But why? Why is one day different from another? Do you have a plan?” Adrien set down his coffee and started munching on a chocolate croissant. It was a medical mystery how that boy was not five hundred pounds, with his chocolate addiction and having easy access to a bakery all these years.

“You found something out last night,didn’t you?” Marinette interrupted her thoughts, and Chloé just nodded at her.  The brunette sunk back into the sofa.

“ _ That’s _ why Alya stopped responding to me.” She rubbed her temples in preemptive stress over what Chloé was going to say next. “How much am I going to hate this plan?”

“I really hate it,” Chloé admitted. “But you’re going to hate it more. Unfortunately, it’s the only way to destroy the stone so it’s really the only option.” Chloé’s eyes flickered involuntarily to Adrien and when she looked at Marinette again, she noticed the alarm in her friend’s face.

“Tell me.” Adrien’s voice echoed in the suddenly very quiet apartment.

“It’s you Adrien. The book refers to needing the full balance of the miraculous to offset the powers of the stone, but to destroy it...to destroy it we need to go a step further, using the powers and stabilizing force of all the other miraculous to enhance one in particular…”

“Destruction,” Adrien finished for her, calmly. “Okay, but why wait then? You’ve figured it out, so why are we not grabbing Mathys and finishing this today?”

“Because, apparently each of our miraculous are at their most powerful during different days of the year. Creation on the summer solstice, Civilization on the autumnal equinox, Progression on the spring equinox, Illusion on the first new moon of the year, and so on. And destruction is most powerful…”

“On the winter solstice. The darkest day of the year. Of course,” Adrien frowned, sitting back in the couch, and Marinette reached over and grabbed his hand tightly.

“Exactly, so you’ll be most powerful in a few days and also, from the legends we read, the stone was forged on the summer solstice with the hopes that it would cling to the light. Obviously, that’s not true, but Nino thinks that might mean the winter solstice would be the day it’s weakest. I mean, it’s not definite, but--”

“It’s more hope than we had a day ago,” Marinette finished, but glanced back up at Adrien. “Did the book say anything about...how dangerous it would be? For a Chat Noir, I mean, to channel all that power?”

And there it was, the question Chloé had been dreading.

“It said...It said it needed to happen exactly at midnight, when his power is at its peak, and that we needed to form an uninterrupted circle, channeling our powers to him..”

“But?” Marinette asked.

“But... it was all in theory.”

“Theory,” Adrien repeated. “So it’s never been done.”

Chloé nodded.

“Perfect.” He dropped his head to his hands, not even bothering to pun.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Mathys stood by force of sheer willpower at this point. He understood that whatever was holding him hostage wasn’t human, but Mathys was dammit. He couldn’t sustain himself much longer on pure air and the few food scraps he managed to convince this  _ thing _ to feed him. 

The last week had been...bizarre. He’d been unconscious for most of it, but he woke up to a different person shoving food in his door every time. He’d worked out that this thing didn’t really have a body, and was just using an illusion to appear that way. At this point, Mathys didn’t know which scenario would be creepier: just seeing a floating rock or waking up to a strange face every time. At least the rock would have been predictable.

He didn’t know why they’d left the rundown hotel for the first time in a week, but he could only assume it had something to do with Chloé. What was he useful for if not leverage? So, as they stood in an abandoned park on the outskirts of the city, he prayed she wouldn’t come. One of her biggest fears of being a miraculous holder was putting the few people she loved in danger by proxy. It was the main reason she never went out as a public hero like the rest of them. Chloé didn’t let herself love many people, the death of her mother was a blow she barely recovered from, and she would never forgive herself if she was the reason any of them were in danger. Besides her miraculous friends, who could take care of themselves, it was just her father and Mathys. As much as it annoyed him sometimes, he knew she viewed his safety as her responsibility, and he wouldn’t argue. In a life or death situation, she would be their best fighting chance; he was just backup. That didn’t bother him, and he actually loved watching her fight. What bothered him was knowing she wouldn’t think twice about putting herself in dangerous situations to save him.

_ Like now, for instance _ , he thought as he watched Queen Bee walk alone into the main plaza of the park. The thing, masquerading as a man in a chef’s coat currently, pushed him forward until they were standing about 3 meters apart. 

“Queenie, you shouldn’t have come,” he grumbled, but he saw her mouth twist up into a sad smile as she looked at him for the first time in four months. Four months and about twenty two days, but he definitely  _ hadn’t  _ been counting.

“Of course I came, Maty,” she responded and his head snapped to attention. He hated that nickname and she knew it. He tried to not be obvious, but started to scan her face.  _ What was her play? _

“I don’t know why,” he continued, not looking at his captor and trying to keep Chloé talking. “You broke up with me.”

“I was just trying to keep you safe. Sometimes you need to be reminded when to  _ step away _ , and just  _ protect yourself _ .” He watched her, trying to commit her words to memory.

“I just want to support you,” he tried.

“Well, sometimes  _ staying  _ where you’re not wanted  _ does more harm than good _ .”

He was certain now that Chloé was trying to get him a message.

“But it doesn’t matter now. I could let you suffer a  _ few more days _ , but luckily for you, I’m a nice person.” She smirked at him, and he couldn’t contain the responding smile. God, he loved her. She was infuriating and stubborn, but one glance of her clever eyes and a hit of her sharp wit and he was toast.  

“Enough,” the voice of his captor echoed eerily, seeming to speak with a hundred different voices at the same time. “Give me what you promised.”

“Please, I don’t buy into all this  _ Ladies first _ bullshit. So, after you,” she waved her hand in front of her and placed the other on her hip. 

“I grow weary of your stalling tactics,” the voice said and Chloé rolled her eyes dramatically, falling easily back into the bratty persona of her youth and Mathys tried not to grin. It always made people underestimate her.

“I’m not stalling, you big oaf,” she grumbled and started to wiggle her ring off her finger. The  _ thing _ held out its hand greedily, but just before it passed her fingertip an explosion sounded in the distance. His captor froze, its entire body tensing as its hand locked around Mathys’ wrist in a vicegrip. Mathys breathed a sigh of relief, realizing Chloé had never intended to give her miraculous up in the first place and started replaying their conversation, noting the words she’d emphasized. 

_Step away_... _protect yourself..._ _staying..._ _does more harm than good...few more days…_

He focused on those last words.  _ A few more days. _ She must have a plan. He could last a few more days for her.

The thing started to pull him away, clearly spooked as he looked towards the sky. Mathys followed his gaze and saw what reminded him of the akuma victims that used to plague the city. But Gabriel...his eyes flew back to Chloé’s.  _ Clever girl _ .

“No!” She called, seeming to still struggle to pull her ring off. Mathys thought it looked a little over-dramatic, but his captor didn’t seem to notice.

“You tricked me,” it hissed, but Chloé was quick to say otherwise.

“No! No, please,” she cried, tears in her eyes as she continued to stumble towards their retreating forms. “Please, I love him. Please. Meet--Meet me back here in four days. I’ll take care of this. I promise you can have my miraculous, just please don’t hurt him.”

“Chloé, no! It’s too dangerous. Don’t give him what he wants,” he played along, winking at her and hoping she saw that he’d gotten her message.

“Four days, or he dies.” 

And then, in a cloud of black smoke, they vanished.


	26. Chapter 25

Ladybug felt bad for admitting it, because somewhere on the other side of the park Queen Bee  was dealing with god-knows-what, but she was having fun. One glance at Hawkmoth’s face, and she could tell he was enjoying playing the villain again too--this time for a more altruistic reason, of course. 

They’d opted to forgo the akumatized victim, not wanting to put anyone under mind control if they didn’t have to, and  instead chose to fight Hawkmoth outright. It was like their practice sessions, but on a larger scale and it was invigorating. 

She spun around the plaza, Chat by her side as always, dodging and weaving the akumas Hawkmoth sent their way as they closed in on him at the central fountain. She’d already cleansed Honu twice and Volpina and Chat both once. She was the only one who seemed to be dodging well--Paon having stayed home to avoid the press--and it was definitely not because Hawkmoth was going easy on them. Ladybug swore she saw him laugh when he finally managed to get Chat. 

It was hilarious, but she tried to keep her game face. The reporters had managed to get wind of what was happening and Volpina had been pointing them out on the surrounding roofs. It was good for appearances how well Hawkmoth was playing the maniacal super villain, but they hadn’t predicted so much media and would need to make a show of defeat while their resident evil butterfly made his escape. 

Just when they were about to reach Hawkmoth’s location, Ladybug saw Queen Bee enter from the side of the plaza and gave a sigh of relief. Looking at Hawkmoth, he gave a nearly imperceptible nod and stopped his onslaught.

“Your reign of terror is over, Hawkmoth.” Ladybug said loudly and dramatically for the benefit of the reporters who lapped it up. Hawkmoth just smirked at her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll squash you like the bug you are another time.” He fluttered his wings and started to fly away just as Ladybug shot her yo-yo towards him, deliberately missing, and Chat called his cataclysm and lunged for his father. He missed too, of course, his hand landing on the central fountain. Its destruction resulted in a burst of water, distracting the reporters enough for Hawkmoth to zoom off in the night.

The superheros made sure to make a show of angry faces and disappointed postures while Ladybug used her miraculous cure to clean up the minimal damage they caused.  Then they were off, scattering in different directions to disperse the media before heading back to the Agreste mansion to debrief. Gabriel and Adela were waiting there with food, and Marinette sank gratefully into their warm living room, grabbing the mug of hot chocolate Adela handed her with thanks. She hummed, tasting the sprinkle of cayenne pepper Adela added just like she liked. Gabriel sat down across from her, gleeful smile still on his face and she felt her own face reciprocate.

“You were having a little  _ too _ much fun out there, Hawkmoth.” She smirked at the often stoic man as he tried to compose his face.

“I don’t know to what you are referring. I played my part, that was all,” he huffed, and sipped a mug of coffee.

“Dad, please. You literally  _ giggled _ when you akumatized me.  _ Giggled _ ,” Adrien emphasized flopping down next to Marinette, and Marinette laughed when she saw an unabashed smile cross Gabriel’s face. 

“Oh come  _ on _ ,” Gabriel threw his hands up in surrender. “Your akuma villain was the  _ Cheshire Chat _ . Your suit was  _ pink _ ! Do you blame me?”

Even Chloé was laughing now.

“ _ Please _ tell me the reporters were there for that part. I don’t think you realize how  _ desperately  _ I  _ need _ to see this.” she cackled while Adrien gave her an unamused glare. 

“Don’t worry, Chaton. You were a very  _ purr _ -tty pink kitty.” Marinette patted his cheek, but he just sank back into the couch.

“Yeah, yeah yeah. Don’t  _ paw _ -trinize me. I know pink isn’t my color.” He grumbled, and Alya snorted before getting them on topic.

“Okay, dish time. Chloé? What happened?”

Chloé was finishing a sandwich she had grabbed before she went into her report so Marinette stole a glance at her boyfriend. He was putting on a good enough show for the others, but Adrien hadn’t really been 100% himself since Chloé talked to them that morning. She knew what Chloé told them was eating at him more than he was letting on.

“Okay,” Chloé started to relate what went down with the stone, forcing Marinette’s thoughts away from Adrien. She did set down her drink and lean into his side though, comforted by his arm wrapping around her and squeezing her side lightly. They’d figure it out. Adrien  _ would be _ fine. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

After making his excuses, Adrien slipped out to go see Master Fu, freaking out about what was going to happen in a few days more than he was willing to admit. He knew he hadn’t managed to fool Marinette, but was grateful when she just nodded and kissed him goodbye instead of insisting on coming with him. Somehow, without asking, she knew he needed to work through this alone. This part at least.

He arrived at the apartment and hesitated realizing that he’d never been there alone before. He’d come with Marinette and the others countless times, but he’d never seeked out Fu’s guidance on his own and suddenly he felt like an idiot. Right at his fingertips, there was a man who had seen the passing of who knows how many decades, centuries even, and he’d never once thought  _ Maybe he has some wisdom to share _ . 

He raised his hand to knock on the door and it swung open, raising the hairs on the back of his neck in alarm. He’d also never been there at night, and it was definitely giving him a bit of the creeps. Marinette claimed she got freaked out sometimes too, but she and Nino were so much better at dealing with Fu’s mystic mojo. He walked in slowly, turning to glance around the low-lit room. 

“Ah, Adrien,” Fu’s voice sounded from behind him, making him jump like a startled cat. Fu didn’t remark on his reaction as he composed himself to face the elder. “I was wondering when you’d come to see me. Come. I just made tea. And Plagg? Cheese is where it always is.”

His kwami zipped out of Adrien’s coat and the boy raised his eyebrow at him.

“What? I wasn’t dormant the  _ entire _ time I was here. Cat’s gotta eat,” he stuck his tongue out at Adrien and then zipped towards a food pantry. Adrien followed Master Fu.

“Sit,” the man motioned with a flick of the hand, and Adrien obeyed, taking a spot at the small table in the corner as Master Fu brought over the pot and two cups. Adrien moved to pour the cups, having learned from his flub the first time he met Marinette’s grandparents, but Fu brushed him off once more.

“Now, child. Tell me what is troubling you.” He poured a cup and handed it to him. Adrien felt his heart warm at the gesture just as the heat from the mug started seeping into his chilled body. 

“You know what I have to do,” he stated, but Fu just nodded and looked at him in understanding. And then the dams opened and it all spilled out. 

_ What was going to happen? Why had no Chat Noir ever attempted this before? Did that make him stupid to try? Would he be able to do it? Was he strong enough? Could he protect them all? Would...would he survive? _

He paused for a breath and looked into the wise eyes of their miraculous guardian. 

“Do you know why it has never been attempted? Surely there were other times when there was formidable enough a foe to warrant this reaction, but it was never used for one reason. Can you guess why?”

Fu looked at him and waited for a response, but Adrien literally had nothing, and he felt drained from finally releasing all the fears that had piled up in his mind since this morning. He managed to shake his head.

“What do you feel when you use cataclysm?” Fu asked, seeming to change topics, but Adrien answered honestly.

“It feels...powerful. Too powerful. Consuming almost.” He cringed, remembering the first few times he used it. It felt like he was unstoppable and could destroy anything in his path. It was intoxicating at first, but when he released his transformation that first time, he realized that he honestly hated the feeling. While happy to be able to help in a crisis, wielding total destruction did not leave him with a warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“There have been many Chat Noirs, my boy. Some perhaps stronger and wiser, but none have ever been more suited to the role than you are.” Adrien looked back up at the elder then and Fu continued. “Even in that answer, I can tell how using your power distresses you, and it should. No one should crave destruction, yet most people relish the feeling of having that power. You do not.”

“No,” Adrien admitted. He’d lived most of his life in a perceived position of power among people, whether as famous model, rich kid, or son of the boss. He hated it and wanted nothing more than to just be on an equal playing field with everyone else. Strangely, being Chat Noir had done that for him. He may be a superhero, but Ladybug wore the pants in the minds of most people in Paris, and as far as they all knew, he was just a normal kid out of the mask. It had been liberating.

“That is why it has not been attempted. Even with the balance of your other miraculous, this much power requires the mental fortitude to resist power at its most potent and corruptible form. None of the others in the past found themselves equal to the task.”

“And I am?” He asked, his voice sounding small and vulnerable even to his own ears.

“That you felt the need to ask that question should give you your answer.” Fu answered, and for once Adrien found that Fu’s cryptic answer made perfect sense. He grabbed his cup of tea to take a sip. He suddenly felt more grounded. While he was still worried about what would happen in a few days, he felt at peace with his decision. He smiled at the man, and Fun nodded at him in understanding.

“Now,” Fu sat back in his chair and said. “Tell me how you plan to propose to Miss Marinette.” 

Adrien sputtered and choked on his tea while the elder just looked on with a misplaced innocent look, effectively chasing the darkness of his doubts out of the room. 

“Wha--How?” Adrien managed to croak out and the elder smiled.

“One does not need a  _ sixth sense, _ as you all call it, to see  _ that _ coming from a mile away,” Fu laughed and Adrien grimaced but sank into the sound of his deep laugh and the comfort of his familiar apartment as he told the man who brought them together all his proposal woes. 


	27. Chapter 26

Marinette checked the clock again and had to stifle her groan. It was nearly midnight, and Adrien hadn’t come home yet. She didn’t want to disturb his talk with Fu, knowing he was still processing some of the things Chloé had dropped on them that morning. She wanted to check in, but of course he’d forgotten his phone at his parents and she couldn’t even do that.

So she sat. Tried to watch TV. Tried to design. But, mostly, she just waited, her nerves too wound to really relax or even try to go to sleep. When the clock finally struck midnight, she decided she needed to move. She needed tea, and comfy clothes. Not necessarily in that order. 

Stretching and getting up off the couch, she walked to turn the electric kettle on and then padded towards the dresser to grab sweatpants and some of Adrien’s wooly socks. Opening the drawer, she noticed a pair she hadn’t seen before and laughed. Bright red with large black dots, she shook her head. Of course Adrien had Ladybug socks. She picked them up. Cashmere Ladybug socks, no less. He was a designer’s son. She chuckled, moving to replace the bundle when she felt a hard edge. Puzzled, she peeled the socks back and just stared for a few moments. The scream from the kettle sounded from the kitchen and she almost dropped the sock’s hidden contents in surprise. Instead she placed it on the top of the dresser and took several steps backwards, slowly, as if it were a bomb about to go off at any sudden movement. Then she noticed the logo on the top of the small box and her hand flew to her mouth as her suspicions were confirmed.

Tikki, having woken up from the screaming kettle, zipped to where Marinette was. Her eyes fell on the box and they widened, but she didn’t look surprised.

“Marinette, put that back,” she said softly, trying not to look suspicious.

“You know what it is.” Marinette stated, not taking her eyes off the box.

“Mari, please, just put it back.” Tikki looked nervous, and Marinette realized she was trying to help Adrien keep his secret.

“I didn’t look,” she assured her kwami and Tikki visibly relaxed.  “But,” she continued. “I don’t think I can touch it.” Tikki nodded matter of factly and floated over, hefting the box that was the size of her head back into the drawer and into the bundle of socks. Marinette went then to shut the drawer and the two moved towards the kitchen where the kettle was still singing to them, horribly off tune. Marinette prepared her tea and set up a plate of cookies before she finally turned and looked at Tikki. 

“Adrien’s going to propose,” she said, and felt deja vu remembering not so long ago when Alya had told her she had a gut feeling about exactly this.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Tikki squeaked, a secretive smile on her face as she bobbed a bit in the air. 

“Adrien’s going to propose,” Marinette repeated, once again stuck on this simple phrase. Tikki’s face turned worried.

“Do you not want him to?”

“No! I mean, yes! Of course I want to marry him!”

“But?” Tikki continued for her.

“No buts, except his butt,” she winked at her kwami who giggled. “I don’t know, Tikki. Despite Alya’s fair warning, I guess I was just surprised. I mean, we’re still very young. We’ve talked about marriage of course, but it always seemed further down the line.  I’m ready to spend my life with him, I mean we’ve practically been an old married couple since lycée,” she laughed, remembering how they’d more than once gotten end-of-year superlatives as  _ best couple _ , much to her chagrin and Adrien’s pride. “I guess,” she continued, looking back at Tikki. “I guess it just caught me off guard. That it was so soon. That he wants to marry me too…”

“Of course he wants to marry you! Marinette! I thought you were passed this.”

“Old habits die hard, Tikki. I’m not perfect. I guess I’ll always be a little insecure, but you know what? Neither of us is perfect. I bet you he’d going to propose with a pun,” she pointed a finger at her friend, but there was a smile on both of their faces. Tikki held up her hands in surrender. If her kwami knew anything, she wasn’t cracking. Marinette sighed, leaning back into the counter.

“But I guess I can live with his puns for the rest of my life if he throws in that sweet face too.” She took a sip of her tea as Tikki rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know,” the kwami teased, relieved to see Marinette more relaxed. “For that trade off? Are you sure you don’t want to demand he include that cute butt you’re always talking about too?”

Marinette placed a hand on her neck and pretended to be shocked by Tikki’s forwardness, but her reply was cut off by the jingling of keys in the hall. The door opened, and a tired, but much more at peace, Adrien walked in.

“Hey, Bugaboo? I forgot my phone at my parents. You didn’t happen to grab it, did you?”

His face appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and both holder and kwami dissolved into giggles.

“What?” Adrien looked between them, Marinette setting down her mug and leaning on the counter for support now. “What did I miss?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she managed to say, walking past him and smacking his butt as she went. She heard a giggling Tikki dragging a grumpy Plagg towards their little kwami nest as she called over her shoulder to Adrien.

“Ready for bed, kitt--”

His arms swooped her up bridal style, and she tried not to blush at the irony as she looked up at her soon to be  fiancé and smiled.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

It was a day before doomsday and Alya was trying not to freak out. It wasn’t even the unknown of what they were facing that scared her. No, it was Chloé’s situation with Mathys that was dredging up everything she’d been trying to ignore with Nino. For two girls who had hated each other at first, Alya and Chloé had frighteningly similar approaches to matters of the heart. 

She’d slinked around her apartment for the last few days, paradoxically wanting to be as close as possible to Nino and knowing the more time she spent around him, the more likely she was to give into temptation and call the whole stupid breakup off. Finally, the night before the solstice, she’d had enough, and hopped out onto the fire escape to transform. They’d decided no patrols and that everyone should save their energy for what was coming, but Alya was never good at following orders and was even worse at being cooped up. She needed to run and climb to the tallest building and just taste the breeze. She needed the open air to calm her thoughts, and focus on something other than Mathys’ kidnapping, the battle that all hinged on Adrien, and the sexual tension currently running rampant in her apartment. 

She conjured her board, and was off, sitting down and crossing her legs as it flew over the city. The others’ mode of transport was cool, but she always felt like she was flying on a magic carpet over the city with her board, which instantly beat out any vine swinging or pole vaulting in her book. She tried to concentrate on the wind in her hair and stars above her and nothing else. 

It worked...for about three minutes. Then, just as she was starting on round two of calming breaths, she saw a streak of yellow in the night, running aimlessly along rooftops and engaging in what looked to be an intense parkour session: superhero style. Alya sighed, giving up on her deep-breathing quest--which honestly had never worked for her before, so she didn’t know why she was bothering now--and went to follow Queen Bee before she accidentally parkour-ed herself off a building. 

As she floated down, Queen Bee paused to catch her breath, her powers allowing her to sense when another one of them was near in a way she’d never really explained. Volpina thought it would be comforting to feel the others’ presence as long as you both were transformed, but she had a feeling Queen Bee also used it to avoid them when she wanted to be alone. Apparently, tonight wasn’t one of those times, but Volpina made sure to approach her from the front anyway. 

“Nice to see I’m not the only one with a flagrant disregard for orders,” Volpina smiled, stepping down off her board and onto the rooftop. Queen Bee just raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, okay,” Volpina amended. “I know it wasn’t really an order. Mari was just worried about us extending ourselves too far before...well, we don’t really know how taxing tomorrow will be.”

Queen Bee’s face remained neutral and Volpina had the overwhelming urge to go over and squish it, just to prove to herself that it was actually Chloé and not some indifferent mask she carried around with her for occasions just like these. Only because Volpina had known her for so long, did she see the turbulence in the girl's eyes. Not that she would ever easily admit to that. Chloé was so damn secretive sometimes.  Volpina released her transformation and went to sit on the ledge.

“Come on,” Alya patted the spot next to her and saw Queen Bee deflate, also releasing her transformation and  trudging over to her. Chloé sat cross legged and leaned forward onto her knees and out towards the abyss below them. She was de-transformed but completely comfortable with how high they were at in a way that Alya understood but would be incapable to explain to someone who wasn’t a miraculous holder.

“I don’t want to talk,” Chloé said, glancing over at Alya.

“Oh, good. Me neither,” Alya retorted. “My head is such a jumble right now, I don’t think I could string together a coherent sentence to explain it to you if I tried.”

“Why? What’s up with you?” Chloé asked almost instinctively, and Alya was proud of her friend’s progress for a moment. Chloé five years ago would have never dreamed of uttering that sentence. Still, she just gave Chloé a sarcastic look.

“Oh,” she managed a sheepish smile in Alya’s direction. “Right. Incoherent. Got it.” She turned to look back out over the city and pursed her lips. Alya could tell from years of interviewing people that despite her declaration to the contrary, Chloé wanted to say something. She just wasn’t sure how. So Alya waited, and was not disappointed.

“Do you think he’ll hate me?” Chloé finally asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice that Alya had never heard before, and Alya felt irrationally honored that Chloé had allowed it in her presence.

“Who?”

“Mathys. He--Well, he talks a big game, but he never signed on for this. I’m the miraculous holder, and it’s a lot for  _ me _ to take sometimes. And then there’s the fact that I’m not exactly easy to love in the first place…” She trailed off and shook her head. “Ugh,” she wiped at her eyes angrily, “I can’t believe I’m even saying this. I broke up with him, so we’re not really together anyway. Besides, I’m not this weak thing that needs a man.” Her expression turned hard, but she still didn’t look at Alya, almost having this conversation with herself, as Alya was sure she had many other times. 

“You’re right, you don’t need him,” Alya looked at her, waiting for Chloé to turn and look at her. When she did, Alya continued in a soft voice, “but, I think you’re smart enough to know the difference between  _ needing _ someone and  _ wanting _ to share your life with someone. They may not be  _ necessary _ to your happiness, but that doesn't mean you don’t deserve to let them be a part of it.” Chloé started to look away, but Alya grabbed her hand. “As for him hating you, don’t be an idiot. That boy is smitten. You may be fooling yourself, Miss Bourgeois, but you are a huge softy. Well,” Alya amended, “for those of us smart enough to see past your bark to know there’s no bite.”

“Excuse me, I am terrifying,” Chloé huffed, but Alya could see the smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhmm, yes. Very scary. I’m shaking in my boots,” Alya assured her and Chloé snorted before leaning her head on her friend’s shoulder.

“I’ve just had too much time alone with my thoughts lately. I know it’s necessary, but this wait is making me crazy,” Chloé yawned.

“Tell me about it, and I’ve been basically quarantined in my apartment with my ex-boyfriend for three days. I love Nino, but that’s the problem. I have such fleeting self control.”

“Your  _ ex- _ boyfriend?” She could almost hear the smirk on Chloé’s face but Alya didn’t take the bait.

“Yeah, ex. No matter what we want, we keep having the same talk. It’s never resolved a different way, but we’re stuck seeing each other every day in this weird limbo right now, and...ugh, I just wish things were different.”

“They could be. You deserve to share your happiness with someone too,” Chloé’s soft voice floated up to her as she used Alya’s own argument against her.

“I know, and I wish...but, I can’t. Not right now,” Alya was tired of having to explain this, but maybe it being so difficult to rationalize was a hint that her  _ reasoning  _ was irrational. Chloé was quiet a moment before speaking.

“When I broke up with Mathys, I told him it would just be more convenient for the both of us, but what I was really thinking was that he deserved better. Now, I don’t know what  will happen to him, let alone what will happen with our relationship,” Chloé paused to take a breath and briefly squeezed the hand Alya was still holding. “I’m not telling you that you were wrong to break things off with Nino. Your reasons are valid even if they don’t make sense to anyone else, just...don’t wait too long. I can tell you still love him, and he still loves you. Maybe the timing isn’t right currently, but...don’t risk losing something great if at the end of the day the real reason is fear.”

Chloé’s words melded into the hum of the city streets beneath them, but Alya heard each word like it was shouted at her. She marveled at how this girl who most saw as emotionally cold could so easily get to the heart of her dilemma. Chloé asked for no response, and Alya didn’t give one, but as she tilted to lay her head on top of her friend’s, she felt a peace settle within her. 

Her reasons for putting things on hold with Nino  _ were _ valid. It wasn’t just fear. She knew she needed the space to become who she was meant to become, and right now that didn’t leave room for romance. Come what may tomorrow, she wouldn’t have any regrets. Nino and she knew how they felt, without without putting a label on it. Maybe one day it would work out, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be. For now, she was just going to focus on them all coming out of tomorrow unscathed. 

For now, that was enough.


	28. Chapter 27

Gabriel sat across from his son and the silence in the room was deafening. It was finally the winter solstice, and they hadn’t all been gathered in one place since the fake akuma attack fours days previous. Surprisingly, it had been Chloé who made the rounds during that time and kept them all updated, undoubtedly to just keep moving and work off her nervous energy. His son had the opposite approach, and had burrowed in his apartment for days, only emerging now when he had to. Gabriel couldn’t blame him. He watched Adrien closely and tried to ward off thoughts of the previous Chat Noir. They all needed to go into this thinking positively and remembering Hugo’s end would not help. 

Suddenly Adrien looked up and motioned with his head for his father to follow him. Gabriel got up immediately and the two headed towards the office, no one questioning where they were going. There was a distinctly somber tone in the room, no matter how the others tried to lighten the mood. They were all nervous, frightened for Mathys and fearing for Adrien  too. This wasn’t some political intrigue like they’d faced before. The worst case scenario wasn’t their covers being blown. It was life or death. Specifically, Adrien’s life or death. Gabriel closed the door to the office behind them.

“This is where it all started,” Adrien muttered, turning to look at his father. “This is where I figured--well, Mari figured it out. Who you were, the blackmail, everything. This is where we told Alya and Nino, too. The reason we took them to see Master Fu. The reason they have miraculous now. The reason...the reason they’re all in danger…” He trailed off, staring at the large family portrait they’d taken a few years  ago to replace the austere one of just the two of them. It was less professional; they were outside instead of in front of a black backdrop, and smiling instead of serious. 

“I need you to do something for me,” Adrien continued, turning to look at his father then. 

“Of course, anything.” Gabriel promised readily, but didn’t like what his son’s tone indicated. 

“If this...if this doesn’t work and if something happens--”

“Nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it,” he declared, a fervor in his voice. “You don’t have to do this Adrien. There has to be another--”

“Papa,” he spoke softly, but firmly and Gabriel was struck wondering when his little boy had become the strong man in front of him. “This is the way. This is the best way to protect us all. I’m not giving up hope, but I need you to hear me.” He took a deep breath. “If something  _ does _ happen, I need you to promise me you won’t tell Mari about the ring.”

“What?” Gabriel had honestly been expecting the opposite

“Don’t tell her. It’s in my sock drawer right now. If something happens, you need to go and get it so she doesn’t find it. If she knows...If I don’t make it out tonight and she finds out I was going to propose, she'll wear that ring for the rest of her life wondering what could have been and I can’t have that for her. She deserves to be happy, not forever chasing a ghost. It’ll be better if I’m a...dead boyfriend and not a dead fiancé.” He choked out the last part, but was steadfastly holding back his tears.

“Adrien,” Gabriel began.

“No, Papa. Promise me.” Gabriel looked into his son’s eyes for a moment and then nodded, seeing the steely look of a mind made up.

“Fine, though I think you’re an idiot.”

Adrien barked out a humorless laugh, wiping away an errant tear.

“I can’t disagree with you there.”

“You know,” Gabriel whispered. “You know it won’t work. She’ll love you forever, whether you're here or not.”

“But I have to try,” Adrien's hoarse voice responded.

“Or don’t die. I like that plan,” Gabriel handed his son a handkerchief and Adrien spared a smile for his father. 

“Yeah, you’re right. That would work, too.”

“I’m your father, of course I’m right.”

Adrien smiled at him and hugged him briefly.

“Thanks, Papa.”

Then, more composed, he walked back out of the room to where the others were. Gabriel remained and let his facade of strength drop.

Nooro floated up to rest on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth,” he addressed his oldest friend. “What are his chances?”

“He has as good a chance as any,” Nooro responded instantly, but it was not the confidence booster Gabriel was looking for.

He looked back at the family portrait, trying to imagine an identical one-- of Adrien, Marinette and their child one day--but was unable to. Not for the first time in the last week, he cursed that damn philosopher for thinking it his place to experiment with things better left to the gods and for putting his son in this position. He stayed in the darkened office for a few more moments, collecting his thoughts and saying a silent prayer that come what may his son would survive.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Queen Bee walked back and forth in the Plaza, waiting for the stone to show up with Mathys. They hadn’t specified an exact time the last time they met, so Queen Bee picked as close to midnight on the solstice that she dared without going over her four day limit and hoped that  _ thing _ was somehow watching for her. Her friends were already stationed in strategic spots around the plaza, ready to run in a surround them as soon as possible, and Jo was off to the side, charged with getting Mathys away as soon as possible. She’d activated her power that let them converse via the suits, but the line was curiously quiet, a theme of the night apparently.

They’d left the Agreste mansion about thirty minutes ago, the silence in the group making the house feel eerily similar to what it had been before Adela came back. It hadn’t been the most encouraging start to what could be the worst night of their lives, but there was no one to blame. They were fighting for their lives, fighting to keep unspeakable power out of the hands of a menacing force, fighting to save Mathys and desperately hoping that Adrien would come out of this unscathed. 

Adrien, for his part, seemed unnervingly calm about the whole situation. Marinette had said he’d been like that since he returned from seeing Fu a few nights ago. Chloé detected the faintest hint of discomposure after he had talked to his father earlier, but that was the extent of it. And he hadn’t even seemed scared, just...sad. She was willing to bet that he was planning to do something stupid and heroic, or at least had decided to take the brunt of the blow should this whole thing go south. She tried to talk to him before they left, but he’d just brushed her off with that annoyingly serene smile of his, and then they were all off and on their way to their positions. Chloé was aggravated at him, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. She had to focus on the role she had to play and hope her acting ability was up to the task.

As fate would have it, she wouldn’t have to wait very long to find out. She felt a gust of wind from the wrong direction and paused, turning and nearly screaming at the sudden appearance of the stone and Mathys. It hadn’t even bothered to choose a human form this time, instead floating in a cloud of dense black smoke, almost solid yet still transient.

“Cutting it close, my dear,” the stone hissed, and Queen Bee had the sudden urge to gag.

“I’m not  _ your dear _ , you creep. And we said four days. It’s still the fourth day.” She tried to sound petulant, when really she could feel her legs quivering. 

_ “Three minutes to midnight, Chlo, keep it talking,” _ She heard Volpina’s voice in her ear and tried to think of ways to stall. Then she took a closer look at Mathys and gasped.

“Mathys!” She started to rush forwards, but the stone wretched him back, and Mathys stumbled to the ground behind it, not quite having the energy to get back up.

“What did you do to him?” She cried, taking in his haggard appearance and apparent starvation since the last time she saw him. 

“Just some  _ motivation _ should there conveniently be another  _ interruption _ .”

“You sick piece of shit! I will  _ end _ you. Do you understand me? How  _ dare _ you--”

“Now, now, Miss Bourgeois,” the stone sang in a flat tune, and Queen Bee shivered hearing it say her name, especially while she was transformed. “The ring. As promised.” 

_ “One minute, Chloé. Start getting him into position,”  _ Ladybug reminded softly, and Queen Bee looked again at Mathys, her resolve hardening into steel.

The black smoke shifted and formed the approximation of a shelf, but she started to back up, pretending to be afraid, when it was really pure anger coursing through her veins. It worked. The inky cloud started to follow her, moving away from Mathys. She hoped Jo was watching and would make her move, but she didn’t dare look for fear that it would give them away.

“You promise to leave him alone?” Her voice seemed to shake with tears, and she continued to move backwards, every muscle in her body coiling to attack. The stone followed.

“He will live,” the voice promised, its smoke swirling faster as she reached down and started to wiggle the ring off her finger.

_ “Now!” _ Paon cried and Queen Bee jumped back a foot as they all rushed out from the trees and Jo started dragging a semi-conscious Mathy’s towards the tree line and hopefully out of the park.

They formed a circle and concentrated on sharing their power by force of will. When a glow started to emanate appearing like a wall around them, Queen Bee gave a sigh of relief. _ It was working _ , but she only allowed herself to dwell on that for a moment before doubling her efforts. The glow domed, creating a case around them and quickly surrounding the smoke, effectively halting the stone’s escape.

“Foolish mortals, you think you can contain me?” Its metallic voice hissed in a echo. “I may have been subdued the first time, but I don’t make the same mistake twice. You can’t stop me.” 

“Yes,” Chat stepped forward, standing directly in front of Ladybug and linked to her and the rest of the circle by her magical yo-yo. “We can.” 

“20 seconds,” Honu gritted out, and they all started to concentrate more. Ladybug started to hum in a meditative tone, and when they noticed the light double around her, they all joined in.

The smoke started to swirl faster, a noxious buzzing noise filling the dome. Chat called his cataclysm as Ladybug sent their combined power through the yo-yo to him. With a battle cry, he shoved his claw into the smoke. It funneled faster, a tornado  somehow being held in place by one man and Chat screamed, falling to his knees.

“It’s not---I---more,” he managed to finally grunt out as Queen Bee watched the color drain from his face, as if he was pouring his very life source into the destruction of the stone. She took a breath to hum louder, deciding that if he was on a suicide mission, then she was directly behind him, but she heard Ladybug’s voice rise first. Determination flashed like steel in the brunette’s eyes, and Queen Bee knew she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.

They hummed louder.

The shield burned brighter.

Chat channeled it all in his cataclysm.

Ladybug sent more power through the yo-yo.

Honu called time.

They all screamed as the last burst of power was channeled through Chat, an explosion of light turning midnight to day.

Then it was gone, and the world went black.


	29. Chapter 28

Jo watched from the edge of the park, knowing they needed to get out, but slowed by Mathys’ limp form and her desire to make sure Nino was okay.  She was peering through the trees when the light suddenly became blinding, illuminating the sky like a misplaced sun. Jo closed her eyes, not able to stand the brightness any longer, when a piercing pain shot through her chest and she dropped to the ground, Mathys crumbling in a heap next to her. The pain started to radiate through her bones, and her jaw clamped shut, gritting against the sensation as she dared not even scream for fear that it might make it worse. She felt Mathys move next to her and heard him murmuring in a mixture of French and English, clearly concerned but  at just as much of a loss as she was for what the hell was going on.

“Mademoiselle! Miss!” He kept calling to her, his gaunt face worried and hands hovering over her in uncertainty, but not daring to touch her.

“Jo,” she introduced herself and then blacked out.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Nino woke up with a tree wedged between his neck and his shoulder. His first thought was how much that was going to hurt when he decided to move. The second was  _ why wasn’t he still Honu? _ He looked down, and somehow whatever blast had broken their circle had been so strong that it propelled him back against this tree and blew his transformation right off him. He started to sit up, grimacing in pain as he moved his left shoulder--there was definitely something wrong there--and tried to stand. His vision swam, but he managed to hold himself upright as he began to survey the scene.

It was a disaster he doubted even Ladybug had the power to fix. The small plaza had been reduced to rubble, broken pieces of pavement pointing upwards in shards from where they had been standing, as if a meteor had impacted that very spot. Trees were snapped and charred and water was pouring from a nearby pipe that had burst. He stood immobile, taking in everything but feeling nothing register as reality quite yet.  _ They’d caused this? _

He heard a small gasp next to him and saw Wayzz, lying dazed in a patch of grass not far from him. Rushing and ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he cradled his friend against his chest, making sure he was okay before letting him go and burrow into Nino’s interior pocket. 

When he looked up again, it was just in time to catch a stumbling girl who collapsed in his arms, gripping his waist tightly. The arm attached to his injured shoulder hung useless at his side, but he held her with his right arm as tightly as humanly possible.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Alya murmured, her grip not letting up on his waist and he allowed his nose to bury into her hair for a stolen moment before she pulled away. She took a deep breath before turning to face the destruction. Grabbing his hand, as unwilling as he was to let go, she searched for the others.

“Alya!” Chloé’s voice called, and they rushed towards her, finding her trapped between a dislodged piece of pavement. She gritted her teeth as they hefted it enough so she could slip out and Alya helped her limp to a standing position.

“Mari? The Agrestes?” Chloé looked between the two of them for answers, but it instead came in the form of a strangled scream from behind them. They turned, fear etched in their expressions as they looked towards where they had been standing in a circle not moments ago. Already stumbling on their way there were Gabriel and Adela, but Nino couldn’t take his eyes from the source of the sound of pure agony. In the center was Marinete. Blood flowed freely down her face from a gash on her forehead, but her distress was from another source.

“No,” he choked, and disentangled himself from Alya to run towards them.

Because in her arms lying motionless was Adrien, his face pale and and his body unresponsive. 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Later, the rest of them would say it was a blur. That they saw a flash of light and then everything went black. 

That’s not what happened. 

Marinette didn’t know if it was her connection to Chat emotionally or if it was because they were physically connected by her yo-yo, but she saw everything that happened in vivid color. In agonizing slow motion.

 

_ “It’s not---I---more,” Chat gritted out, falling to his knees before her, his hand still within the swirling inky blackness. She watched as his face turned ashen, as he gave every remaining shred of his energy to destroy the stone and anger coursed through her.  _ **No one** _ was taking her kitty. Her hum turned into a guttural scream as she gave him everything she had. She heard the others do the same, but her eyes were on him. Only on him. Always on him. _

_ When the light flared around them and the dark smoke was incinerated, the others described it as a brief flash, but for her, time stood still. She watched as Chat became Adrien, the explosion of power releasing his transformation as Plagg had no energy left to give. She watched as a wave coursed through his body, his face wrinkling in agony, before he opened his eyes and looked at her.  _

**I love you** _ , his lips moved, but she heard nothing apart from her own sobs wracking through her body as his eyes slid shut. _

_ Her own transformation was released but didn’t she fly far, her yo-yo holding her close through the initial shock wave of the explosion. As soon as the light died down, she was on her feet, ignoring the sharp pain in her ribs and the fierce pounding of her head. She gingerly collected Tikki and Plagg, who both laid unconscious near her, before springing to Adrien’s side. Falling to her knees, she placed their kwamis on his chest and cradled his head, gently tapping his cheek and begging him to open his eyes. A part of her registered when Tikki awoke. She breathed a little easier as she saw her fuss over Plagg, but it really only freed up more of Marinette’s mind to worry about Adrien. She knew her kwami would feel the same; the two had tunnel vision when it came to their partners. _

_ “Adrien? Adrien! Please, no. No, no, no, no, no…” she sobbed, trying to find a pulse and leaning down in desperation to hear a breath. “No, Adrien, you can’t do this to me. Please. Adrien. Please…” _

_ Her tears were falling, creating haunting patterns on his dirt stained face as she pleaded with the universe to not take him from her. She saw the others start to stir in her peripheral vision, but her eyes never left his face, as if the sheer intensity of her gaze could somehow save what seemed lost. _

_ Then his chest moved and at the same time both he and Plagg took a shuddering breath. The primal cry that sounded from her throat seemed out of place on the metropolitan streets of Paris, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. He was alive. He was alive and Plagg was alive. The Agrestes and their friends reached them then, and they were alive too.  _

_ Marinette’s tears doubled as she leaned down and rested her forehead against Adrien’s. _

_ “We’re okay. We’re all okay. It’s going to be okay.”  _

 

Hours later at the hospital, she was beginning to doubt her own assessment. They’d been found quickly by police and paramedics--the whole of Paris having heard the explosion--and were ushered immediately to the hospital. They all claimed that they were on a walk when it happened. It was just a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. No one questioned it and the authorities were chalking up the explosion to a gas leak. Go figure.

They’d all been tended to, bones set and wounds stitched. Mathys’ dehydration had been a bit harder to explain, but luckily the nurse had accepted his excuse of ‘overworked university student’. 

The true anomalies were Jo and Adrien. Both had slipped into a coma, and while Adrien’s trauma at the epicenter of the event made sense, Mathys claimed that Jo just collapsed to the ground and passed out without warning. Marinette was concerned, but left it to the others. Apparently, Alya and Nino weren’t leaving her side and Marinette was grateful to her team, because right now, Adrien was her focus. His parents were in an out of the room, consulting doctors and calling experts, but Marinette knew there was nothing anyone could do. The doctors could find no medical reason for his coma, claiming it must be the shock of the trauma and all they could do was wait.

So she waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry :X Good news? I originally had this cutting off after Nino's POV, but I'm not that mean. More good news? The rest of the main story will be out tomorrow (epilogue on Friday). Hang in, we're almost there!


	30. Chapter 29

_ Jo was back in her village. It was strange, walking amongst the thatched huts of her childhood, but as a grown woman. The structures that seemed so imposing in her youth were now put into perspective by her height and she realized how ephemeral this place really was. Her people were always meant to be nomadic, it was no wonder all they had built had been so easily dismantled. She looked out at the reeds swaying along the river; their rustling the only sound in the unnaturally quiet village, but she didn't feel uneasy. Any fear that had lingered within her had fled, leaving only the bittersweet longing for her first home. She spun slowly near the heart at the village center and then stopped when she saw him. _

_ Leo walked towards her, eternally 20 years old and more youthful than even she was now. _

_ “Little bird,” he called to her in the tongue of their people that she had not used in over a decade. The sound of it washed over her like the warm breeze of their river home. She opened her mouth to respond, but found that she couldn’t. Leo just smiled at her.  _

_ “You have made me proud, small one,” he reached down to ruffle her hair and she found that she was eight years old again. “But it is not your time. You must go back.” _

_ She shook her head. _

**_No_ ** _.  _

_ She was tired of living without her family. Tired of fighting to remember their faces, the sounds of their voice, what it felt like to be so selflessly loved… She didn’t want to lose him again. _

_ “But I am not here, bird. Not really. You  _ **_know_ ** _ this,” he read her thoughts. “Go back to the one with my eyes and help him accept the path before him.” _

**_No_ ** _ , she wanted to scream. _

_ “Please. It is your destiny to lead him to his. And give him this message: his  _ _ máthair mhór says not to grieve her and tell him I’m honored to share my soul as well.” He smiled down at her once more, and reluctant as she was to go, she knew she would see him again. When the time was right. _

_ “Goodbye, little bird.” _

 

Their village faded around them until finally the blackness consumed even Leo’s eyes. She felt her own eyes flutter open to find the same pair staring back at her, but she knew instantly the difference.

“Nino?”

“Oh my god, you’re awake! Alya, quick. Go grab a nurse.” Nino called over his shoulder, and Alya hustled out of the room. Nino went to follow her but Jo grabbed his arm, suddenly understanding Leo’s words as they mixed with a something Fu had mentioned. 

_ If all is how it should be, and he is who he shall become, he will soon need to be far more open to things beyond his current reality,  _ Fu had said to her.  _ None of us live forever. _

She looked up into Nino’s familiar eyes and finally was able to answer the question she’d asked Fu so long ago. She finally understood his plan for Nino. She was just an infinitesimal part, a tool really, but she felt proud of this man who held part of her brother’s soul and the important role he had been chosen for.

“Nino, wait,” she spoke, her throat dry and hoarse from disuse and Nino moved immediately to give her water, which she greedily accepted. “I have a message for you,” she continued once she could speak again.

“Yeah, sure, Jo. What is it?” He answered, clearly thinking she was still loopy on whatever pain meds they were giving her. She regarded him, suddenly unsure of what she was going to say, but decided to just be blunt about it.

“Leo says he’s honored to share your soul too.” Nino froze at her words, a million emotions flashing across his face.

“Leo,” he repeated and she nodded. 

“My brother.” She stared at him, waiting for his denial of her words, but it didn’t come.

“How did you know---You spoke to him?” He looked at her, and she was surprised by the complete reversal of his reaction. The first time she told him he had her brother’s eyes, he had clearly not believed her. While there was still some hesitation in his face, she could tell he didn’t discount what she was saying. She nodded.

“I had a dream. We were in our old village and he spoke to me. He told me I needed to get a message to you. Part of it was what I already told you and the other part was that your...your máthair mhór,” she stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar words, “says not to mourn her.” She watched as the words seemed to physically impact Nino and he fell back into his chair.

“There’s no way--I just got that call. I haven’t even told Alya yet,” his eyes met hers again and she watch as whatever remaining doubt flew from his face. “What else did he say?”

“Just that it was my destiny to prepare you for yours. I don’t know what that means exactly, but I think I know who does…” she trailed off and he nodded.

“Fu,” he finished for her and opened his mouth to ask another question when Alya returned with a nurse, but her face was white. Nino was on his feet in an instant and by her side.

“Alys? What is it?”

“Adrien,” was her only response.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

It had been three days and Marinette had barely slept. Other than to grab food for Tikki, who had taken up residence in a suitcase slipped under Adrien’s hospital bed where she cared for a still unconscious Plagg, Marinette didn’t leave the room. Technically, it was against hospital policy, but she didn’t know if they just pitied her or if Gabriel had paid them off, but she didn’t care. They didn’t try to make her leave, though she would have liked to see them try. 

The first day, she’d been in shock. Moving around the room and sometimes out into the halls in a half-aware state. Doctors kept coming to examine Adrien and pushing her in and out of the room. Her parents had come and were darting around and checking on everyone. Her friends would come and check on her as they also made the rounds between hospital rooms, but Chloé finally convinced them to leave her alone for a while. Marinette had gotten to the point where she couldn’t do much more than just stare blankly in response to their concern. 

When they first got there, Marinette had been in a frenzy too, refusing to be seen until they all had been taken care of and making sure everyone and their kwamis had what they needed. Then her parents showed up. Her maman took one look at her, shooed her to Adrien’s room, and took over. The adrenaline fell away, and all remaining energy fled her body as she sat next to Adrien’s bed, holding his limp hand. 

Day two had been anger. She paced back and forth through the room and the halls, Adela sending her on runs for coffee no one would drink and food no one would eat. Marinette knew it was to keep her busy and give her purpose, but nothing was helping. She sat with the Agrestes and tried not to let herself sink further into the pit of loathing she felt for their situation. 

Day three was undoubtedly the worst. It may have been Christmas eve, but Marinette was definitely not feeling the holiday joy. Adela and Gabriel had left to meet with a specialist who thought she had figured out what was going on with Adrien and would be gone overnight, leaving Marinette alone in the room. Her parents kept coming and going for the first two days before she sent them away. It was the holidays and they had a business to run. Besides, waiting with her would help no one. She promised to keep them informed if anything happened. 

Alya had checked on her a few times that morning too, but Marinette begged her to take care of the others for a while, not wanting to fall apart completely in front of her best friend. Because that was where she was at: desolation. At some point, she’d climbed into bed with Adrien and curled into his side like she had so many times before. She missed the strong feel of his arm around her waist, the gentle hum of his body leaning into hers. She laid her head on his chest and just started to talk.

“I miss you,” she choked out and cleared her throat before continuing. “I know you always like to be the fall guy, but I did not okay this, chaton. You are not allowed to leave me, okay? We have so much more to do. What about the house, huh? I was promised a lifetime of bossing you around in the kitchen and a tire swing in the backyard. I demand that tire swing, kitty,” she poked his chest but continued to babble. “And the design room, remember? Where I’ll design fantastic clothes and you’ll model them through the hallways; our own little runway. And the kids, chaton,” she broke off in a sob. “I want at least three babies with your sweet face running around and creating loud, messy havoc. You promised, Adrien. Please,” she buried her face in his chest and allowed herself to cry.

What could have been ten minutes or an hour later, her tears dried as she continued to stare at him. Lifting a hand to his face, she rubbed the pad of her thumb against his cool cheek bone.

“I found the ring,” she whispered to him. “I found it in your Ladybug socks, you big dork.” She laughed a watery laugh, but continued. “I would have said yes. You no doubt would have come up with some horrible pun and I would have rolled my eyes, but I would have said yes.” She sat up partially now, propping herself up with her hands laid against his chest.

“I’m not a pun master like you, Kitty, but you’re not awake to do it, so I will.  Will you _meow_ -ry me? Or would it have been Will _mew meow-_ ry me?” She rested her forehead against his chest. “Which one is more obnoxiously perfect? I would have said yes to either, but you’re on the hot spot now, chaton. So what will it be, will _mew_ _meow-_ ry me or won’t _mew?_ ” She raised her head and looked at him, as if the sheer determination in her worlds would be enough to wake him up.

Nothing happened. 

She collapsed back into his side, her body heaving with dry sobs, her eyes having long since run dry, and she tried to focus on his breathing.

_ “Yes,” _ she could almost hear his answer, and somehow her body found tears left to shed. “Mari,” her mind continued to play a trick on her as his voice continued. “You’re my  _ fur _ -ever,  _ Purr _ -incess. I would love to  _ meow- _ ry  _ mew. _ ”

She eyes shot open.  _ All those puns, could it be... _ and she scrambled into a sitting position. Looking down, Adrien glanced up at her beneath heavy lids.

“Adrien?” she asked, not quite trusting her sleep deprived state, but then he smiled up at her.

“Hey, Bugaboo.” She collapsed into him, feeling his arms wrap around her, weak but solid and real.  _ Alive _ . She held him tighter.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you understand me?” She leaned back from the embrace, framing his face in her hands and refusing to look away.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re the boss.” He rolled his eyes and she practically cried in relief as she saw the spark of amusement flare in his emerald gaze.

“And don’t you forget it, kitty.” she retorted, but the power of her words was lost by the pure thankfulness in her voice.

“Come here,” he whispered, scooching over and made more room for her at his side, and she happily curled back into his chest. “Now, tell me about these three kids.”

She groaned, hiding her face in his side.

“How much did you hear?” She moaned and was rewarded by his vibrant chuckle.

“Only bits and pieces, but it was enough.” He looked down at her. “I mainly heard you call me home. You brought me home to you, Mari.” He looked at her tenderly and she raised a hand to wipe and errant tear from his cheek.

“And I always will, Adrien.” She replied just as the clock stroked midnight and it had officially been four days since their battle. She smiled widely.

“Merry Christmas, Kitty.”

“ _ Meow _ -ry Christmas, Bugaboo.”

And then she kissed the best Christmas present she would ever get and vowed to never let him go.


	31. Chapter 30

Chloé walked down the streets of Paris, amazed that she was going back to London tomorrow and that somehow the world seemed just as normal as before everything with the stone had happened. The world kept on turning, yet their world had been changed forever.

Adrien had finally woken up, thankfully followed by Plagg, but the blast had taken more out of him than anyone else. It baffled the doctors, but they compared his state upon waking after three days to a patient that had been comatose for three months. It would take weeks of physical therapy to rebuild his strength. Chloé had been there as they gave the verdict and watched in amazement as the smiles never left Marinette and Adrien’s faces. They’d been through worse, and they were both alive. That was what mattered.

Chloé turned to look at the man holding her hand, and she couldn’t help but agree. Just as Alya said, Chloé had been an idiot to ever doubt Mathys. Even in the hospital while  _ he _ was the patient, he was somehow still taking care of her. She’d been an idiot to ever let him go and wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, she just hoped Alya would figure out the same thing about Nino. 

But then, that had its complications, too.

A few days after Adrien and Jo woke up, another revelation occurred--as if they needed more surprises in their lives--and Nino announced that he was in training to become the new guardian of the miraculous. None of them were surprised. Nino had always been the one most in tune with the history of their miraculous and no one doubted that he’d make wise choices in who received the power, but Chloé had the feeling that there was more to it than what Nino was telling them. None of them knew how old Fu was, and if that was a side effect of being guardian, Chloé could understand Alya’s hesitant joy over Nino’s news. She sighed, hoping they would figured it out--a blind man could see that they were meant for each other--but also resolving to not interfere. Not yet, at least.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her from her thoughts, and she momentarily dropped Mathys’ hand to text a response to Jo. The girl had been accepted into their group without question, and Chloé had a feeling that Fu had his eye on her for the peacock miraculous--or was it Nino now? Whatever. She texted Jo back, confirming the time they were heading back to London the next day--Mathys had offered to fly them all back on his plane--and then turned it off, not interested in any more distractions.

“Are you with me now?” Mathys looked down at her as she shut down the phone and she smiled.

“I’m always with you. You’re stuck with me,” she retorted, sticking out her tongue at him but he just smiled softly at her.

“Thank god,” he replied earnestly and captured her lips with his, the winter air whipping around them as she embraced the new year in her old city in the arms of her forever love. ______________________________________________________________________________

 

Adrien paced back and forth in the garden, grateful that the two months of physical therapy had paid off and he could feel the steady strength of his legs beneath him. He told Marinette to meet him here after class, but of course he got here way too early and was now letting himself overthink  _ everything _ . It was silly, really. They were  _ technically _ already engaged. Marinette had even called him her  fiancé when introducing him to someone the other day, but he had never given her the ring, and she never asked for it. They both knew where it was, but it had just sat there in his sock-drawer untouched since the attack. 

But he was going to fix that tonight. 

He’d made up a random anniversary as a cover. She was used to him celebrating weird benchmarks of their relationship so a date in honor of ‘The first time I gave you flowers’ just got him a fond eye roll and and agreement to meet at the garden behind his grandparent’s house. It was late, and the sun had gone down long ago, but he didn’t care. His favorite moments with his Lady were under the stars, and this wouldn't be any different. 

Then she was there, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders in the warming spring air and her beauty putting the newly budding flowers to shame. She wore a leather jacket over her dress to ward of the slight chill of the night and he smiled when he saw she’d swiped his favorite coat again. He loved finding it with just the hint of her flowery scent still clinging to it. 

He stepped forward from where he was leaning partially hidden from her view against the large tree trunk and she smiled brightly at him.

“Celebrating in a garden? Very apropos, kitty, but I’m  _ freezing _ . Can we go inside?”

“In a second, Princess.”

“Fine, then come here. I need my space heater.” She opened her arms and motioned for him. He was holding her against his body in an instant.

“Remember the last time we were here?” He asked, and she hummed her answer, leaning her cheek against his chest and slightly swaying to keep herself warm. 

“Yes. You promised me a tire swing,” she giggled as he poked her side.

“And?”

“And that I could boss you around in the kitchen forever…”

“And?” he egged further and she sighed. She squirmed out of his grasp and made a grand sweeping gesture towards the house, pointing in direction of the gated roof.

“And that we would sit on that balcony right there in wicker rocking chairs until we were gray and old,” she finished dramatically before turning back to him and gasping, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw him on one knee.

“Well, I don’t remember promising wicker rocking chairs, but I guess I could make that happen if it’s a deal breaker,” he reached into his pocket for the ring as Marinette squeaked unintelligibly in response.

“Bugaboo?” she nodded, both hands covering her mouth now as she practically bounced before him. “I want to love you until the end of time and then longer. You’re my best friend, the most amazing partner and the most devoted girlfriend. If you would do me the honor, I would like nothing more than to add  _ wife _ to that list. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, will you marry me?”

He watched in anxious tension as she stopped bouncing and a coy smile took hold of her face.

“As long as you remember who asked first.”

“Is that a yes?” He couldn't wait any longer, but she laughed and it lit up the garden.

“Of course that’s a yes, kitty!”

And then he was kissing her, vowing to never let go and thanking the universe that he would never have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, just casually sobbing that this is almost over T^T Only the Epilogue left now!


	32. Epilogue

Adrien paced up and down the hospital hallway, his hair sticking out in every angle, for once eschewing all remnants of the dapper- tweed-wearing-academic look Marinette loved and truly looking like the crazy professor he had finally become.

He’d thought he was prepared. 

They knew that she would need to go to a hospital soon, her condition had a clear expiration date, and he _ thought he had been prepared _ . He’d mapped the shortest route to the hospital, had a car service on standby and a cab company on speed dial if for some reason the car service didn’t show. He’d packed bags a month in advance and kept them by the door, right next to the box of brand new diapers and car seat.  _ He had a plan, dammit! _ But then, when did he and his bugaboo  _ ever _ stick to the plan? 

Of course Marinette went into labor in the middle of a park. 

They’d been taking a walk because she was too uncomfortable to sleep when the first contraction hit, a mile away from home, and all his careful preparations flew out the window. He didn’t even know what direction the hospital was in from where they were. By some act of god, he managed to flag down a cab and called Chloé and Mathys, who lived across the street, to grab their bags from the foyer.

“Adrien?” He surfaced from his thoughts and spun swiftly at the sound of his name, almost toppling into Rose.  _ Dr. Lavillant _ , he corrected himself and looked down at the petite woman who used to be their collège and lycée classmate. “She’s ready. You can come back in now.”

Rose turned and he was right on her heels. He’d been pushed out of the delivery room while they gave Marinette the epidural and had been instructed by his wife to use that time to call their parents and friends and let them know the baby was on the way. That had taken all of 2 minutes, and Adrien didn’t care if he’d been short with everyone. He had other things to worry about. So did his wife.  

During the hour since they had arrived at the hospital, Marinette allowed her abundant vocabulary of curse words and threats of bodily harm to flow freely. They weren’t directed at anyone, thank god not even him, but they were detailed and vicious and surprisingly varied in their languages. Somehow, she’d managed to pick up a few languages throughout her design career that even Adrien was scratching his head at. The nurses had laughed it all off and under different circumstances, Adrien would have found that funny. He knew what the nurses didn’t, that petite little Marinette was more than capable of everything she was shouting. He would have found it funny, that is, if Marinette hadn’t been concentrating the entirety of said strength into breaking his hand as she held it and gritted through contractions. 

That was the scene he’d left when he walked out of the room, so imagine his surprise  when he returned to find Marinette sitting serenely in the bed. 

She caught sight of him and grimaced.

“How’s your hand, chaton?”

He flexed his fingers, grateful for all the strength years of pole vaulting around Paris had built up, and smiled at his wife.

“Ready to hold a baby,” he responded, leaning down to push her sodden bangs off her brow and kiss her forehead.

“You and me both,” she grunted, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “Alright, Dr. Rose. Let’s get this kid outta me.” She called to the blonde who was putting on gloves in the corner. Rose walked over and made another measurement before looking up at them with a smile.

“You’re ready. Push on my mark, okay?”

Marinette nodded, her face falling into the Ladybug look of determination that Adrien had fallen in love with as she reached up to grab his intact hand. He held it tightly and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, ready to support in anyway possible.

“Push!”

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Alya arrived at the hospital, later than she would have liked, to find Chloé and Mathys sitting in the waiting room. She saw the Agrestes and Dupain-Chengs huddled closer to the door, eagerly awaiting news of their first grandchild, but Alya zeroed in on Chloé. Before she could even open her mouth, the blonde answered her first question.

“No, we’re still waiting.” Alya breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did you guys drive over with them?” She moved to hug both of them hello.

“No,” Chloé flicked her hair, that somehow looked perfect even at 2am, off her shoulder. “We dropped Gemma off at my Dad’s and then drove over. They called us first to pick up some things from their house.”

“They weren’t home when it happened, but I swear I could Adrien panicking from a mile away.” Mathys chuckled, a pro having already been in Adrien’s shoes with his and Chloé’s daughter, while his wife rolled her eyes. Alay laughed out loud. She could definitely believe it. Adrien had been baby crazy, especially the last few months.

“What took you so long? Is everything okay?” Chloé addressed her again, a bit of worry creeping into her voice as her eyes darted down to Alya’s barely noticeable baby bump, but Alya just waved her off.

“Everything’s fine.  _ I’m _ fine. We just had to take a cab because  _ my husband _ decided that yesterday would be the  _ perfect time _ to take the car into the shop for repairs.” She rolled her eyes. She never had a car growing up, but had become accustomed to the ease of their admittedly  _ too flashy _ sports car for getting places quickly. They didn’t indulge much, but there were some perks to having a famous husband.

“Well, excuse me. How was I supposed to know Mari was going to choose tonight to go into labor?” Nino walked into the room and she stuck her tongue out at him before he grabbed her and kissed the teasing look right off her face.

“Ugh, newlyweds,” Chloé scoffed when they came up for air, but Alya detected the genuine happiness on her friend’s face. It had been a little under a year, but compared to the rest of the old married couples, she supposed they still were newlyweds. It took them long enough, but they finally figured it out. She’d established the career she’d always dreamed of, Nino retired after years of touring, and they’d even come to terms with the whole  _ guardian of the miraculous _ issue. After years of skirting the topic, Nino finally just outright asked Fu if he was immortal now and had been abashed to say the least when Fu literally laughed at him. No, the guardianship would move on when Nino was ready, and if that meant within a normal human’s lifetime, then that was what it would be. Of course, it took Nino another two years to relay this information to Alya, but at that point she had already decided that she was going to marry him, immortality or not. 

She sighed, leaning into her husband’s side. She always dreamed of leading a life of adventure...she hadn’t signed up for the angst that went along with it, but Alya wouldn’t change a thing. She looked around the waiting room, shooting a quick wave to the anxious grandparents that had finally noticed their arrival and smiled. She had her family, and there were two more on the way.

Adrien burst through the doors. _ Okay, only one more on the way _ , she amended as they all turned to look at him, their faces lighting up as he ushered them into Marinette’s room.

“Only family!” a nurse yelled, noting their larger than usual group, but Alya saw Rose shush her.

“They  _ are  _ family,” she answered, winking at Alya as she spared a quick moment to kiss her old friend on the cheek. 

Then they were in the room, and all she could see was Marinette. Her face was sweaty. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and sticking up in strange angles. There were circles under her eyes and exhaustion was clear in her posture, but then Alya met her gaze. Her friend had never looked more radiant. She pulsated pure love as she held a squirming bundle to her chest. 

“Everyone, meet Hugo Thomas Agreste.” She smiled up at Adrien and both their kwamis who were beaming from where they peeked out of his coat. Looking over at the two grandfathers, she smiled wider at their arms around each other's shoulders and their grins lighting up the room as they looked at the new family.

“Hugo would be honored,” Gabriel reached to wipe a tear from his eye, remembering his old friend and Adrien’s predecessor as Chat Noir.

“As am I,” Tom leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s head.

“Want to hold him, Papa?” Marinette lifted the bundle carefully into Tom’s bulky arms and Hugo yawned loudly before nestling into his grandfather’s embrace.

They all gathered around, cooing at the new addition.

“I’m glad you’re all here,” Marinette smiled and grabbed Alya’s hand. 

“Please, like you could have kept us away,” she smirked at her friend and moved to stoke Hugo’s chubby baby cheek. “And don’t you forget it, little one.” Hugo smiled up at his aunt and Alya whispered.

“We’re never far away.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! (Don't mind me as I'm silently crying at my desk, this series is just my baby and now it's all grown up and out in the world on its own)  
>  Thank you all SO MUCH for reading this story and (probably) Not Alone, too! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! This is a bittersweet ending for me because I love this series so much and it was the first full story I'd ever completed, but I do have another longer story in the works, so if you liked the Not Alone series, I hope you'll stay tuned for what I have coming up.  
> Also, a HUGE shout out to those of you who have commented on this along the way. I've loved reading your reactions and sharing this world with you!


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